


Don't you dare die for me

by Kru



Series: against all odds [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Humor, Case Fic, Chasing, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fights, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I need to worn you that there are some remarks about Bond's past relationship with Vesper, M/M, Memories, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shotgunning, Travel, Typical Bond's movies violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but I don't want to tag everything, but really you are going to wish for that one, since I don't want to spoil your fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kru/pseuds/Kru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One job, one mistake. Two men with their past tied to the same woman. Five countries and five days together.</p><p>Or the story where Bond and Q have to forget about the past and finally start to move in the same direction in order to survive (and understated that they belong to each other).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I need to admit that I’ve never been so nervous about posting a story before. The whole idea grew up on me since I watched Skyfall for the first time but I had guts to write it down weeks later… And it took three painful but still beautiful months to finish this. So yeah, it’s definitely a big thing for me since I’ve never written in English anything _that_ long and _so_ developed. I even didn’t know how and when I’ve started to think about this story as of another Bond’s movie. I fell in love with those characters. Medley, deeply and insanely in love… To the point with no coming back ;) (seriously sometimes I even don’t know where my inner Bonds starts or my inner Q begins and then when I’m in all that ^^)   
>  So here I am, trying to create this world and these characters as close to Craig’s Bond movies as possible but at the same time showing you my little cannons, all those small bits and pieces that have grown in my head. I am a bit scared whether you would like it or not but still I’d love to hear from you any remark, any comment that would come to your mind while reading this text.    
>  You would discover that this story is a bit different… My Bond is more of human and my Q is more of self-destructive man. And maybe I would be trying to break some stereotypes but I truly hope that you will find reading this text as pleasurable as I found writing it.    
>  All in all, it’s for you, my dear readers ;) Please consider this as my Christmas gift to the the whole 00Q fandom. You’ve welcomed me into fandom with warmness and friendliness so now I want to repay you with the same and more!

James felt a drop of sweat run along his spine, causing an wholly unpleasant sensation as he slowly started to walk down the corridor. The fabric of his shirt was already drenched with sweat and stuck to his skin. God, even in a hospital, the air-conditioning wasn’t working. It seemed that nothing here was civilized. But then again, how there could be any normalcy in the capital of a country that had been stricken with a civil war that had lasted for years now?

“Bloody Egypt,” he murmured, carefully walking down the hall and checking to see if anyone had noticed him yet.

A foreigner, dressed in three piece suit and in the middle of public hospital in Kair could cause some unwanted interest. Apparently, his handler didn’t want to or didn’t have the time to warn him where he was going to be sent. The phone call woke him up in the middle of night, shortening his three days off, to one. And he had such a good plans for his vacation… He was going to burrow into his sheets and duvet with his latest and most beloved lover, a beautiful bottle of Glenlivet, and just have some time for grief and suffering. Just three damn days. That’s all. He needed them to process, to forget and to be forgotten.

But terrorist didn’t have days off, and they obviously didn’t have anyone they’d grieve, so here he was, in the middle of the hell, just after yet another bombing.

The hospital was still operational amidst the chaotic rush of the protests, putting personnel in a familiar state of tranquility. Something, or someone, could be easily missed in the absolute madness, and James was planning to use this to his advantage. He just had one simple job, just the elimination of a man who caused unbelievable mayhem, and James would be back in London, back in the rain and cold of British summer.

Easy, he thought as he passed another fire door and walked into the special care unit.

“He should be in a room opposite the toilets,” a velvety voice said into his ear, the poshness of the accent came through on each syllable, “Be careful, 007.”

“I’m always careful,” Bond whispered in reply. He couldn’t hold back a grin when he envisioned the smirk on the other side of the connection. “You’ve such little faith, Q.”

“I happen to know you and your preference for destroying everything that doesn’t suit your tastes,” Q explained as he typed.

“When you say it that way, it sounds almost like a compliment,” the agent rejoined with a smile as he stood to the side of the room’s door. “I’ve reached his room.”

“I see you,” Q murmured, “Use the injection I gave you on him and get the hell out of there. There are a couple of military cars going down the road to the hospital. The opposition knows you’re there.”

“Well, it’s not so difficult to spot a man in a damn suit when it’s at least forty degrees outside,” Bond said, taking out the syringe and hiding it up his sleeve where it fit along his arm, ready to use. ”You could’ve just told me where I’d be working today.”

“And miss the view?” Q quipped with a laugh and Bond couldn’t resist looking quickly into the nearest camera and winking.

Then, he pushed the doors open lightly, looking inside the room to make sure that his target was alone.

“Bugger,” he cursed suddenly when he got a full view of the hospital bed.

“Bond?” Q asked with what James thought might have been concern, “Report.”

“He isn’t in the bloody room,” Bond growled as he entered the space that was filled up with monitors, wires and the sound of the low, monotonous noise of the equipment that was driving him crazy.

He gave a quick look around to make sure the man was nowhere near. The window was opened, and the drapes had been removed. The mark had probably fashioned a makeshift rope out of them to climb down the side of the wall. Upon further inspection, Bond could see drops of blood on the windowsill.

“He ran,” Bond said, looking out of the window. “How far could a man with freshly torn stitches run?”

“They must’ve warned him,” Q remarked, typing faster when the room around him grew noisy after he ordered his team to be on the lookout for a man in a hospital gown.

Bond, on the other hand, didn’t have the luxury of time. If there were people already after him, he needed to act first and think later. He spotted the ropes that held up the scaffolding outside. Taking off his jacket and getting outside, he grabbed the ropes, using his jacket for a glove. In the next second, he was sliding down from the fifth floor down to the scaffolding below.

“Bond, what the hell are you doing?” Q asked calmly, “We’re looking for an alternative solution here, if you could be patient for ten seconds.”

“You’ll be too bloody late,” he muttered, jumping to the ground from the first floor. He tucked and rolled as he landed to lessen the impact of the fall. His jacked was burned by the ropes and beyond repair. The mark now owed him 5000 quid, the bastard.

“Keep looking for him,” Bond commanded as he reached for his Walther. When he looked down, he could see a few drops of blood.

He realized as he followed the trail, that this job was not going to be this easy. He heard Q’s voice again when he reached the rear entrance of the hospital, “He is two streets ahead of you. Turn left and then go south.”

“How many people are after me?” He asked as he jumped over a low fence. He ran down the street, trying his best to navigate between people.

“Two cars, five people altogether,” Q informed him. “And turn left again.”

Bond grunted in response. He maneuvered his way through a group of women dressed in burkas as he followed Q’s instructions. It wasn't long before he saw the mark. Dressed in a white hospital gown, he was an easy target. Bond could reach him without a problem, if not for the angry shouts coming from the black Mercedes behind him.

“This is getting interesting,” he hissed as he speed up, trying to mix in with the other people on the street.

“Hold on, I’ll send someone,” Q promised, his fingers were probably only brushing over keys with remarkable speed as he was looking for a way out.

“Any government forces would be torn apart by the locals,” Bond noted, taking the next turn sharply as he chased his target and dodged the bullets that were whizzing through the air just above his head.

People on street seemed to not notice the chase, the shouting, or the shooting. It was almost as if they were used to these kind of things and their survival instinct wouldn’t kick in during the chaos. He was pushing them out of his way with the barrel of his gun, but the bystanders were closing around him to fast to give him a clear path. There was no point in shooting though; he had to save bullets for when the situation would get worse. And he was sure that it was going to get worse soon. Probably much, much worse, he corrected himself, while jumping over yet another fence before hurrying down the street.

“Bond, the car,” the careful voice reminded him just as the next black Mercedes careened around the corner and cut off his route.

“You’re telling me this now?” He said under his breath as he stood completely still, waiting.

Mere seconds had passed when one of the car windows opened. Before the driver was even ready to shoot, Bond aimed and fired. The driver collapsed onto the steering wheel as the passenger leapt out, only to be met with another bullet. The exchange took moments but had already caused more chaos on the street. Blood always seemed to be the best distraction, he thought with a wry smile. When he reached the car, he pulled out the driver, and dumped his body on the pavement.

“Q, I have their transport, tell me where to go,” he said, already putting the car in motion as he turned around, triggering more panic when he drove through running pedestrians.

*

Q observed Bond’s movements on one big monitor in the center of his console. The agent made his way through the massive crowd that was gathering in the square and drove to the port as he was told. With a bit of luck, their target would think that Bond was working with them and he would willingly get to the car.

Q needed to be calm and composed for Bond. One mistake could cost someone’s life and he promised himself a long time ago that no one was going to die during his watch. Especially Bond. So he took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and collected his thoughts.

When he opened them again, he saw his agent stop the car in front of the terrorist. “The injection,” he reminded softly as he watched their mark made his way inside.

“I might be old but-” Bond started, but suddenly his voice was consumed by some noises rising inside the car.

In fraction of second, a huge blast filled up every screen of Q’s console. The explosion was so big that it reached even the buildings that surrounded the street, blowing out every window and starting each alarm of the cars parked nearby. The clouds of smoke obscured the monitors and they seemed like they could come through the screens and into Q branch.

“Bond? Reports…” Q managed to whisper, his lips dry as he breathed slowly, looking at the screen in disbelief

He couldn’t move. He was frozen with fear and anticipation of something, anything that would be evidence that this was just a bad dream. A bad damn dream from which he’d wake up in the next second and everything would be normal again; Bond would be alive, in London, taking his three days off. But as he blinked, the view didn’t disappear. It got worse. The people started to gather near the explosion like flies were attracted to death. Another black Mercedes pulled close, probably to check if everything went according to their plans. The fact that there was some plan hidden in all this was the only thing that Q could understand.

“Impossible,” he repeated, feeling his eyes starting to burn like the explosion was just inches away.

“Boss,” a voice and a gentle touch on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. “What we-“

“Send medics,” he ordered in flat tone.

“A coroner would be much-“

“Send medics” he said with a tone of unquestioning authority and then he dialed Moneypenny’s number, saying simply, “Get me in touch with M.” 


	2. Resurrection

After everything that happened last year, things slowly were getting back to normal. The old MI6 was restored, and the old building that shone over the London’s Embankment had a new glory. Everything returned to previous positions, same rooms, departments… Even Q-Branch settled back in the old basement to give people the feeling that some places were never meant to change. The famous ground zero, situated on the same level as the waters of the Thames, was filled out with new wires, mighty servers, radio stations, and tech rooms prepared for every threat imaginable.

Q had to admit that he was pleased with what he had accomplished for the past year. He used to think that he brought MI6 into the new world, fully equipped and ready for action. He was proud of all the systems that they put together again, new firewalls and spirals of complicated codes that were guarding the access to their databases. He had been like a posh peacock, showing off and never really thinking. He was so naïve, so stupid…

He thought that the greatest value laid in machines and systems. But in fact, the most important part of MI6 was the people. Because what exactly did he have from all this new systems and wires?

Now the corridors of Q-Branch were perfectly silent. The night shift containing only three people was at the opposite side of the building, the massive brick wall was muting every noise that might came from outside, and everyone went home like nothing had happened.

Mallory had said that Q must go home as well. He even gave Q two days of emergency leave and then closed the door of his office and went home too. Moneypenny was gone shortly after, giving him assuring poke on the shoulders, the only gesture of comfort that he could expect from people working here. For them Bond was just another agent, another operative, just a soldier. Even as good as he was, Bond was replaceable. Q was replaceable too. They would hardly give a second thought if he died. Maybe there would be a day or two of chaos while Q branch tried to keep itself running. But then, there was already a long line of names, fresher and younger brains, waiting to take over his position. They were all just assets. That’s all.

Maybe because of that he couldn’t leave now. Or maybe he wasn’t one of those cold-blooded people who could close the door and leave everything behind them. He was still here at four in the morning, watching every damn frame of the footage from CCTV cameras in Cairo. He was looking closely at slow moving pictures, his eyes were red and growing more tired by the minute. His glasses felt like they weighed a ton and he had had far too many cups of earl gray, but he couldn’t leave now. Not without being sure that Bond was really dead.

The local coroner didn’t find a body. He had reported that the temperature in the car was so high that it might have burned the bones into dust. Q didn’t believe him. The tech that MI6 sent had assumed the main explosive used in the bomb was simply TNT, popular and trivial. Q knew that it would take a bomb with a half-kiloton of TNT to completely destroy a car and any humans within. It was first inconsistency that got him thinking.

He began to dig, starting with the footage, but that lead him nowhere. He saw in slow motion their target getting into the car. There were a few seconds of steadiness when Q reminded Bond of the injection and then the agent responded while starting the engine. The bomb was probably wired to the ignition of Bond’s car. On the video, it looked like the bomber had installed it inside the trunk, as the explosion started from the back, quickly overtaking everything else. It could be an internal security system of the car that would detonate a bomb if the driver was not an ally. Or maybe they knew that Bond was in it and their target had the trigger with him.

Then again why would anyone go through so much trouble to get Bond into that car? Why Bond in the first place? Why to lure him to Cairo? Did they know that 007 was supposed to be off duty? That he would have days off at this particular time, and would therefore be the only available agent to take this task?

Bond always took off some time around now, Q realized. How could they know these things if Q, the man’s damn Quartermaster, only realized the pattern now?

Q closed his eyes with frustration, dropping his head into his hands. He took off his glasses, tossing them onto the desk with anger and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t have any problem with coding for several different projects, in several different languages, at the same time, but he couldn’t quite get his head around why someone would go through so much to kill Bond, or how they managed to do it.

“I’m sure there’s a long list of people that would love to see Bond dead,” Q said to the empty room.

He rubbed his eyes again and ran his fingers through his hair. He reached for his glasses to look at the profile of the target on a nearby screen.

“Who were you working with, you sneaky bastard,” Q murmured as he resumed searching for something, anything that could connect the target to Bond.

Before 007 was assigned to this job, they got an alert from Interpol. Vlad Gorskey was just a gun for hire, responsible for about fifteen bombings in Egypt, working for the rebels in order to cause another revolution and take over the country. Apparently, he slipped on the last job and got injured, landing himself in the hospital with a several fatal internal bleeds. Only then did his name appear in Interpol’s database. He had British origin so they did a courtesy and passed the case onto MI6. That was why 007 was dropped in Cairo.

“Gregory Winch, no. Andrej Markey, probably… Definitely a no,” Q murmured to himself, biting his lip when the next list of names popped up on the screen. He started to look through the results, eventually clicking through to reveal the next page when his gaze leveled with a strangely familiar name, “Yousef Cabanera.”

He opened the file and gave it a closer look.

“Yousef Cabanera, first spotted as a part of a mob in France, then moved to Algeria and back to his roots, then transferred to Russia, stealing information and selling it to whomever was offering the best price.”

Q sighed and commented, “In comparison to recent targets, you seem relatively harmless, Yousef.” He continued on to follow the next lines.

“Captured by 007 in Russia,” Q read with a groan.

He was about to close the file when he saw a small addition regarding Yousef’s private life. He read silently and with little interest until he read 6 words that made his stomach twist in knots.

“Was in relationship with Vesper Lynd.”

Not a moment later, his phone rang, sounding almost irrationally loud in the empty room. He shuddered, and took out his private phone from his pocket with still trembling hands. The number was unknown, which gave him hope that this was the call he’d been waiting hours for.

“Is it you?” he asked immediately after answering, only later hitting himself for how stupid he must have sounded. “I’m sorry I-”

“Did you miss me that much?” A rough, well known voice interrupted him.

“Hardly.” Q replied quickly, composing himself and trying to calm down. “I’m content that my conscience is still untouched.”

“Almost virginal, I’d say,” Bond rejoined. He sounded pained, but still managed to laugh. “You need to do something for me.”

“Should I send the retrieval team?”

“Don’t even try to report this conversation,” Bond’s voice changed into a warning growl, “I’m dead.”

“But M needs to-“

“Is he there with you?” The man asked with well heard sarcasm and didn’t wait for answer, adding bitterly, “Exactly.”

“I need to ask you how you know my private number, but for now tell me what you need,” Q said in unspoken agreement, knowing that there would be other time to ask Bond how he managed to stay alive.

“Try to run one of your magic programs and tell me where Yousef Cabanera might be now,” the agent’s voice was calm, but there was some anger still playing on the edge of each word.

Q’s fingers that had already reached keys froze over the keyboard, “Why him?”

“I’d say the bomb had his signature,” Bond explained slowly, hissing with pain. “And our mark passed me his best wishes before he set off the detonator.”

“I‘ll run the facial recognition with CCTV, but it might take up to five minutes,” Q answered, getting back to business. “Are you in position to wait?”

“I’m safe for the time being,” the agent said dryly, “If Egyptian gutters can be considered a safe place.”

“So are we working off the radar again?” Q asked. He couldn’t hold back a bit of concern that snuck into his voice.

“Completely,” Bond said in his most persuading, intimate tone, “Do you care?”

“In fact, yes… The past months have convincing me that I should care. More about covering your ass then about my career, though,” the young man said quietly, focusing more on running the program then on his words, because he finally found a match. “He is in Monaco,” Q informed, looking at a picture of Yousef spotted at the entry of Casino de Monte Carlo. “And he doesn’t even try to hide.”

“Can you-” the agent started to ask, but Q per usual, was ahead of him.

“Yes, I’ll try to get you out of Egypt without too much attention, but only if you’d promise to keep in continuous contact with me. Are you capable of that, 007?” Q smiled to his reflection on the screen. He was already making a reservation for a room in one of Monaco’s hotels. “I hope I’m not helping you try to kill yourself this time? Do you know how many years you can serve in prison for encourage suicide?” 

“Q, when I’m coming back we’ll need to come to some agreement on who is covering whose ass,” Bond murmured, disconnecting.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he muttered to himself, pushing his glasses higher. It was already half past four and he still had a lot of work to do.

Including getting on a damn plane to Monaco.


	3. Overlooked

Q still felt a bit sick after the turbulence, the impossibly curved roads of famous Cote D'azur didn’t help in steadying his dizzied head, so he was enjoying the silence that settled in the taxi. He observed the moving view outside the window with his cheek pressed to the cold glass. Everything here was different from rainy London and he felt a bit uneasy about his quick change of surroundings.

The flight wasn’t that bad, or maybe it was just the impressive amount of Xanax he had taken to live through the ride, but at the afternoon of the same day he was on his way from Nice to Monaco. And maybe everything that he had done in the past few hours wasn’t very wise and it wasn’t very well thought out, which was never how he did things… But he owed it to her. He owed Vesper in so many ways.

Normally he wouldn’t be able to leave work like that. He suspected that he might even lose his job after this. He left everything half-done and only had the few hours before the flight took off to prepare for his departure. But then again, he didn’t know if he would still want to work for MI6 after this case ended... Maybe it would be much better to stay in the shadows? Maybe he followed in his sister’s footsteps after all? The thing they made him most angry was that MI6 had lied to him. About everything. About everyone.

And the story had seemed so simple, so believable. His sister got her ideal job at Her Majesty’s Treasury, fulfilling the promise she made to their mother when she was still alive. Vesper was perfect in every aspect, always doing what was right. She not only graduated from university at the head of her class, but she managed to take care of her younger brother, a difficult teenager with genius-level IQ . She was everything to him.

They were so close in so many ways. But they were still so far from each other… She never told him about her job, even when she came home so frustrated with her work. He never asked, because Vesper wasn’t a person who would speak openly about things that bothered her. She never told him about Yousef, about going to Montenegro. And still he felt guilty. He never put much interest in her life. He was a little snob, a genius that, at the age of fourteen, was getting a master’s degree in computer science. Before leaving for Montenegro, she had told him that she was going on a vacation with some friends from work. He even didn’t ask where. He was too concerned with his own life.

He was sixteen when she died. He remembered that it was Friday when they called him, a rainy day at the beginning of English summer. He was at the university, testing an android program for some robot that was supposed to assist in surgeries. He never finished it.

Officially, Vesper Lynd died in an accident. Just like their parents, on the boat. Their yacht had hit rocks during a massive storm near Lido di Venezia. Nobody lived. He knew that she shared the same love for the water as their parents did, never being afraid of it like he was. He never questioned her death. He never looked for answers because he didn’t have questions.  Maybe he was too hurt, too stunned by this sudden loss to ask? He just took everything like it was, too tired and too afraid to fight.

Two years after her death, he was a part of MI6. The old M had approached him personally. He was eighteen, extremely gifted and skilled, but also a hard worker, like his sister. After eight years, with a bit of luck and a lot of sacrifices, he became the head of Q-Branch. He didn’t have a private life, he was something like guinea pig, closed in a lab for a pleasure of its masters. It was okay. He didn’t care. He didn’t have anyone in his life anyway. It was just him. Just him when he woke up too early in the mornings and went to the gym. And it was just him that worked all day into the early hours of the morning on too much caffeine and not enough food. It was just him, and that was fine. And if sometimes, and just sometimes, he felt like he was missing something, he’d go out and find some quick anonymous fuck. It was simpler that way. And if all of this meant that he punished himself for his sister’s death, then so be it.

But something had changed in him, even after only the past few hours. One, simple piece of information got him thinking. Then he started asking questions. Why was Vesper even mentioned in MI6 databases? Why was she connected with someone like Yousef?

He started to dig, started to search. And he found everything, all those files that were protected from him, hidden away in some file cabinet by his predecessor. And now he knew why she left for Montenegro, and how she died there. He learned all about Le Chiffre and the poker game at Casino Royale. He knew everything. Even things he never wanted to know, like how he and his sister had the same taste in men.

He felt instinctual hesitation to share this information with Bond. He always preferred to double check before informing his agents. And when he learned everything, he wasn't sure he should tell Bond at all. Because if MI6 kept information from Q, then they must be keeping things from Bond too… Or maybe Bond knew about everything and still played dumb? Maybe he derived some sick pleasure from using his charm on Vesper’s brother, wondering if he would fall for it in the same way that she did? However much Bond knew, Q still needed him. He needed Bond’s lethal instincts, his knowledge and his brutality. Q wouldn’t think twice to use Bond.

“Use him,” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“Sir,” a voice with a strong French accent resounded in his ears. “Sir, we arrived.”

Q blinked, looking around with sleepy eyes, completely confused. “Where?”

“Monte Carlo, sir. As you requested.”

There was already a man holding the door open for him. The heat stormed the inside of the car and took his breath for a moment. As he slowly got out, the last rays of settling sun immediately warmed his layers of clothes. He stood on the yard of a hotel, patting his pockets blindly and looking for his wallet while he surveyed the surroundings with a bit of disbelief. The place was already busy with the evening rush. Regular tourists were taking millions of photos of the Casino de Monte Carlo, mixing with the insanely rich people who came here to have some thrills and fun in losing their money gambling. Expensive and fancy cars were stopped at the entry with a rain of camera flashes, there was a low hum of whispers and laughs, click of high heels on the pavement and rustle of luxurious fabrics. Q, dressed in an old trench coat, crumpled oxford shirt and a pair of tweed trousers, felt completely out of place and for a long moment he wanted just run away.

“Sir, is everything all right?” The taxi driver asked with obviously pretended concern.

“No, it’s fine,” Q said with hesitation, pushing a couple of notes into the man’s hands, probably too much for the whole drive. Looking at his baggage as it was taken care of, he said quietly and more to himself, “There’s no way out anymore.”

He walked into the foyer of Hotel de Paris, taking his coat off as he entered the pleasantly cold inside of the building, walking behind three men carrying his suitcases.

“You have booked a double apartment suite, sir?” the lovely young receptionist asked him on the check in.

“With two bedrooms, yes,” he said, trying to sound polite and gave her his best fake-smile. “There will be one more person joining me later so could you please prepare a card for him to collect at the desk when he arrives? And please don’t inform him that I’ve already arrived.”

“Of course, but there… There is some mistake, I think,” she said with a sweet voice, “There is a honeymoon master suite attached to your reservation. Or maybe it’s not a mistake?”

Q snorted a short huff of dissatisfaction. When he made the reservation, he just hacked into the hotel’s system, deleted one reservation and entered his own. Since he was tired and disturbed by the case, he must have slipped and booked the wrong room.

“Can we change that for a double?” he said with tired voice, resting his arms on the counter. “I had really long day,” he added without a smile this time.

“Sorry but as we are holding our king’s birthday party this weekend, the hotel is fully booked,” she explained softly, almost like she was actually sorry. She was all smiles and allure. She brushed her brown hair off of her shoulder and Q realized she was exactly Bond’s type. “I’m sure it would be big enough for you and for your companion, sir.”

Bond would know what to do and how to act here, Q thought. Bond would seduce her and get this damn double room, turning Q’s mistake into his own advantage. But Q wasn’t like Bond. Q’s power was in his tech, as opposed to human interaction, so he simply tossed his card onto the desk and said, “Fine.”

*

“Top floor, please,” Bond requested, entering the elevator only few hours later.

The doorman looked him over cautiously, “Your room’s number, sir?” he asked with poorly hidden disgust.

Bond smirked, showing the man his room’s card. He gave it another careful look, nodding with dissatisfaction.

“French people,” Bond murmured, taking a look at his reflection in the closing doors of the elevator.

At best, he looked homeless, but he didn’t have much of a choice from the range of clothes Q’s contact offered him. He was wearing an awful old suit that were soaked with his sweat but he accepted this with unusual humility when Q’s friend proven to be incredibly efficient; giving him a fake identity with papers that allowed him to pass through security with ease.

Dealing with the bomb, on the other hand, was not as easy. Bond saw with the corner of his eyes that mirror on the wall reflected the ugly bruise on the right side of his temple from where the explosion had thrown him into a wall. He had some minor bruises on his right forearm, layers of bandages showing through a cut in the shirt, covering a burn that had yet to stop hurting. But he had lived. He didn’t know how he made it this time, but he did. And now he needed to finish this operation once and for all. He needed to get rid of this part of his life for good.

His thoughts were interrupted by the signal of the elevator as he reached his floor.

“The honeymoon suite, sir” the man said dryly as the doors revealed the elegant interiors of the corridor.

His room was the last door, just at the end, luring him with a promise of a long, warm shower and comfort. Q must have good contacts if he managed to book him a whole suite in Hotel de Paris at this time of year. In addition to it, there was a beauty that had been waiting for him at the airport. A slick Aston Martin welcomed him with the calming coolness of air-conditioning and even though the car wasn’t one of the custom made ones from Q-Branch it got one, extremely needed improvement, new Walther PPK hidden in the compartment box.

Q was a good handler and not every agent had the privilege to work with him. He was assisting only in the top priority missions since his time was so valuable back at MI6. Still, he was helping Bond with every one of his operations from the moment they’d met. In one way or another, Q was always there for him, making his life easier and much safer, staying long hours, not eating properly, sometimes staying awake to the point of exhaustion. Maybe that was the reason Bond felt a little guilty about using Q’s this time and making him outright lie to the higher ups. But at the same time, he had a great excuse to finally get into those skinny pants of his Quartermaster and repay him for everything he’d done to help. 

He’d do that, and so much more, when he would be back in London, he promised himself. With a smile, Bond put the card into the door, listing the pleasant clicking of opening locks. There was just a moment of a sudden alert before he pushed open the door and saw a strange, dim glow of lights coming from under them.

Bond tensed, listening carefully and slowly moving to the nearest wall. He pulled his gun from behind his shirt and started to open the door very gently. There weren’t any strange noises coming from inside, just a low, kind of electronic murmur that put him off for a moment. Holding his gun high and prepared to use it, he entered the mostly-dark room. Shutters were covering the windows, muting the glow and noise of the street outside. Only some faint strings of light from the street lamps managed to get in the room, illuminating Q’s face. The young man sat in the middle of a small mess, on the floor in front of a computer. He even didn’t stop typing as Bond entered the room, giving him only a raised hand as a sign that he saw the agent, but he needed a moment.

Bond lowered the gun, growling with irritation. He didn’t know if he was more pissed off because Q had managed to put him off or because Q was in Monaco, in the field.

"You’re late,” Q said, finally looking up from the screen. He pointed his chin at the table situated in the dining area, “Your food is getting either colder or warmer… Depends how you’d look at it.”

"What the hell are you doing here, Q?" Bond said angrily, the Walther still in his hand.

"I believe you’ve worked in this business long enough to figure it out. I took a flight,” Q said flatly. "To my sincere disappointment we haven’t yet invented teleportation."

"You even...” Bond started, but he only shook his head with disbelief.

He secured the gun, putting it on a table beside Q. He turned to check the food, feeling Q’s intense gaze on his back. The young man observed him carefully as Bond lifted the cover of the plate, taking small tartine with caviar and devouring it in one hungry bite. Q knew his taste and wanted to please him. The Quartermaster probably learned this from watching Bond’s ops. Although he didn’t like the feeling of being a target, Bong had to play along, because something definitely wasn’t right. Something in the way Q’s body was tensed, how he was holding back something and yet at the same time wanted to appear at ease to calm Bond down. So Bond took the plate, filling it with delicious food that after his stay in the shitty motel tasted like Heaven. He settled in the armchair opposite the young man, putting two glasses of Dom Perignon between them.

“You don't like to fly," he pointed out, taking another huge bite without the courtesy that he reserved for fieldwork, but now he was too tired and sore.

"I hate to fly" Q corrected him, looking at Bond with strange, cold and reserved attention. “But that doesn’t mean I never do. Sometimes I have to. Sometimes we all have to do things we don’t want to, right?”

Bond held Q’s gaze, nodding in agreement. He took a sip of champagne and observed Q from over the rim of the glass. Q’s green eyes were dark in the dim light of the apartment and slowly followed Bond’s moves. Bond could tell, however, that his Quartermaster was far less calm than he appeared. Q was trying to keep a hold of his emotions, but he didn’t have the same composure now that he did when they worked together. He was stressed, and possibly even scared. His fingers trembled and were held frozen above the keyboard. His lips were red, as though he’d been biting them for a while. His hair was more unruly than usual, and looked to be still wet from a shower. And he was wearing only a pair of loose trousers and a white button down. Unusually casual for him he left the three top buttons undone and Bond could clearly see his collar bone, the soft skin there. It looked so easy to break and so delicate... It made Bond to want it even more.

Q could be a delicious lover. He always was that someone that Bond wanted to put his hands on. Even back when Q was just a regular employee of Q-Branch, Bond wanted to interrupt him and tease him. Now, Bond had him all for himself. Due to the mix of adrenaline from near-death and the anger that follows a poorly done operation, Bond could only think about how he’d like to use Q a bit more. He could seduce Q, fuck him senseless and then put him on a plane back home. It might be cruel, but he was a cruel man and the kid had no idea what he was getting into. If this was what could help Bond and keep Q safe and alive, then one broken heart was a low price to pay. It wouldn’t be his first one, nor his last… But before he could do anything, Bond had to know what made his Quartermaster take a flight he hated so much and come here.

“So you told Mallory and he’s sent you to babysit me?” Bond asked carefully, still holding Q’s gaze.

The young man slowly shook his head, “I didn’t tell anyone. I keep my promises,” he replied. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “After you disappeared, he gave me days off to ease the stress. So here I’m, easing my stress.”

Bond frowned evaluating Q’s answer. The kid picked up the pen, started to play with it as the fingers of his free hand went back to typing. His voice wasn’t as smooth on each accent and syllable like it was just hours ago when then spoke on the phone. He was even more stressed than he was at the beginning of this conversation but he hadn’t lied. So what the hell was it that made him so fucking scared?

Bond wondered, observing moving pen in Q’s skilled fingers when he said suddenly, “Don’t push it. It might explode.”

“What? The pen or you?” Q asked, looking quickly between his hand and Bond.

“You have no idea what could make me explode,” Bond smiled faintly with a poorly covered grimace of pain as he moved closer to the younger man.

“And do I want to know?” Q asked dryly.

“I could show you,” Bond replied, his voice changed to a murmur and his eyes captured Q’s gaze once more. “You could make yourself useful and work out all the tension in my body…”

“I have a work to do,” Q interrupted him, his voice rough. “I’m here to help you complete this operation smoothly and quickly. Not to be your boy toy.”

“Don’t worry,” Bond smirked and he leaned back. “You’re not the type to be a boy toy.”

“Too smart?” the man asked, raising his eyebrows, suddenly interested.

“Single,” the agent pronounced this word slowly as he felt the unpleasant, metallic taste of blood in his mouth. This was one of hell déjà vu, he thought, pushing the feeling out of his mind with next question, “What did you get on Yousef so far?”

“I still have some things to finish up,” Q said, focusing on typing and ignoring Bond. “Take a shower first, take care of your wounds and sleep off the adrenaline. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

Bond smirked, standing up. “Patronizing brat,” he said under his breath as he went to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was quiet significant part, setting up the action and the plot line. As now you know a part of my secret plan, I'm dying to hear what you think about this... And I hope you've enjoyed! :)
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> ohh, and btw - Happy New Year!!!^_^


	4. Memory

He inhaled deeply, enjoying how the hot air moved down his throat and then spread throughout his body. Q didn’t smoke often, but sometimes it helped him to gather thoughts and stop the continuous run of ideas. Just like now. He stood on the balcony, observing the slow movements of people downstairs. There were only few of them, mostly from the staff of the restaurants and the hotel. The city was almost empty and peaceful, so different from the night before. The sun lazily came across the valley, spreading with a soft glow like it wanted to defrost everything left from the coldness of the night. He was only in his pajama bottoms, feeling the morning chill and shuddering but he didn’t want to go inside yet. Not when he still didn’t know what to do.

Yesterday was a disaster. Bond didn’t push further, but he must have sensed that something was off. He disappeared in the bedroom, joking about the honeymoon suite and pretended to go to sleep. Instead he was working on his own, using a new smartphone that Q has equipped him with. Q monitored it, having a view of Bond’s search history.  The man spent the night checking surroundings, reading news and catching up on God knows what. And although he didn’t make any move to contact someone from MI6, Q’s heart was aching with anxiety. Bond didn’t buy his story. Q had to think fast of something else, something more to convince this man that he wanted to help him without giving away the whole truth.

Q buried his face in his arm that rested on the balcony’s balustrade, quietly growling with anger and frustration. He was so very dumb, really. For all his cleverness, intelligence and university titles, he was the biggest moron living on the planet because he just couldn’t stay composed in the presence of this man. Even though Q knew that his reactions were sick and immoral, he couldn’t restrain himself. It was like his body has been living on its own, without approval from his brain, acting automatically with every word Bond said or everything he did. Normally, in the lab during their work, it was somehow funny and thrilling. Maybe he was even flattered that he could tease and provoke someone like Bond, but now it was just not right. Not when he knew what was connecting Bond and Vesper. He needed to stay away from the agent, not giving into Bond’s charm. Q needed push Bond away, put him off with his coldness. But at the same time, he had to persuade the agent to follow his plan. And that… That seemed almost impossible.

“Bloody hell,” he moaned painfully.

“I couldn't agree more,” he heard a voice from behind and in the same moment he felt a searing pain.

“Damn, Bond!” He flinched, dropping the cigarette that burned his fingers. “You scared me.”

“This is what you get from smoking underage,” Bond said, moving from the doorway and coming closer.

He was fresh out of the shower, dressed only in the bathrobe showing his naked, broad chest with no sign of bandages now. The cuts on his face still remained, being the only proof that he almost died two days ago.

“I’m twenty seven,” Q said, trying to not pay much attention in to the drops of water still clinging to the man’s torso as he blew on his fingers to calm the burning.

Bond was fast though. He moved forward, grabbed Q’s hand and brought it to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the burned fingers. The young man nearly gasped with surprise and wanted to pull away, but Bond’s mouth was cool and so comforting. Q couldn’t help to settle down into the touch for a moment before he realized that his body was reacting again. He moved to take his hand away, but then the man’s grip tightened around it as the agent’s tongue moved slowly between his knuckles. Bond was looking straight at him, intensely and intimately and it didn’t help Q try to stop the slow shiver that went down his spine.

“It’s okay now. It’s all right,” Q said breathily when Bond continued, “I already owe you.”

“I’m the one who should be grateful,” Bond murmured, answering around Q’s fingers.

“No, really, I owe you… I mean, I completely butchered the Egypt operation,” Q confessed. “I should have checked everything before we sent you. I should have but I made the same mistake before, during Silva.”

His confession must have worked, because Bond moved back, looking at Q again.

“That’s why you came here, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, I want to fix this,” Q agreed. “That’s if you allow me to stay.”

“You’re scared of me,” Bond frowned as he moved to lean against the railing, focusing his attention on the entry to the casino, “Yesterday you were scared that I blamed you for the explosion.”

“I blame myself,” Q said honestly. He still felt responsible and was angry… God, he was furious at himself for that failure, for putting too much trust in someone else’s information and risking Bond’s life. He moved closer to the man, leaning next to him and following his gaze to the crowd below when he added, “I admit that I’m a bit scared too.”

Bond looked at him quickly and something changed in his eyes, something like a shock before there was a small understanding smile, “It’s okay, sometimes I’m even scared of myself,” the agent admitted with a voice conspiratorially lowered to whisper, bending closer to Q. “And don’t think about mistakes. Move on. Otherwise you’d get lost in them.”

“And did you? Did you move on?” Q couldn’t hold this question. “Can you kill and never think twice about it?”

Bond seemed to hold his breath for a moment as he hesitated to answer.

“You know, there was someone who asked the same thing,” he started quietly. “Somehow, you remind me of her.”

Q flinched, covering his surprise with a shiver of coldness, folding his arms around his waist to warm up, but he couldn’t help that his voice has shaken when he asked, “What happened to her?”

“The same thing as to everyone who sticks around me for too long,” The man shrugged, his gaze dropped again on his hands resting on the railing, when he whispered, “She died. She came too close and got lost in all that mess.”

“Is that a warning for me?” Q asked, hiding his real feelings behind another fake smile.

“It’s too late for you. You’re already here,” Bond said, smirking. He moved suddenly, pushing from the balustrade and poking his chin at the door, “Show me what you have.”

*

“So, you’re telling me that this idiot managed to escape a highly secure, British prison and now he walks around like nothing happened, gambling every night for the past two weeks at the fucking Casino de Monte Carlo and in the meantime he’s planning to kill me?” Bond growled, clenching the iPad that had all files about Yousef. He fell back on the sofa, wanting to throw the damn thing across the room but Q was faster, he caught Bond’s hand, slowly taking the tablet from his grip. He put the device carefully on the low table, beside his laptop, swiping the photo of Yousef off of the screen.

Q hacked all the cameras in Monaco and downloaded all of the footage from the past two weeks to follow Yousef’s every move. He checked with whom he contacted, whom he met, where he was and even what he ate. Q still didn’t have access to his phone or laptop but he was pretty sure about one thing…

“He didn’t do it on his own,” he said. “It wasn’t even his idea. He isn’t that smart.”

Bond nodded slowly, not looking at him, but at something that caught his attention outside. The horizon line shimmered with the blue water of the sea, playing with the sun. Bright glimpses of the water reflected on the white hulls of hundreds of yachts docking at the Monaco’s marina. The scene caught Q’s attention, but as the sun suddenly blinded him, he moved on the carpet to fully face the man. He rested his arms on the edge of the sofa and waited to catch the agent’s gaze.

“Look, I’ve gathered information from the prison and they were altered. They say Yousef has been there this whole time, while our information says he’s gone,” Q explained, as Bond finally turned towards him.

“He made friends in prison? He got some deal, he gets out and in return he has to kill me?” The agent began to think aloud. “But that’s ridiculous, giving the fact that he already has ample reason to want me dead.”

“I think he had friends before incarceration,” the young man pointed out, smiling wryly. “He just waited there until the right time for him to strike back at you. Or they made him wait and now they’re using him as a weapon to get to you and not be spotted at the same time.”

“And if we ignore them,” Bond caught onto Q’s train of thought, smiling openly now. “And just go after him-”

“We wouldn’t even come close to the heart of that matter,” Q finished, nodding.

“I was going to say we won’t even be able to touch that shit, but if you want to be poetic then go on.”

“I’m behaving, 007” Q pointed, “While you just completely forget manners. These numerous ‘holidays’ are a bad influence.”

“I’m just enjoying my death by being myself,” Bond shrugged as if calmly discussing his death was usual. To be fair, it was.

Q couldn’t hold back a short laugh, watching as the man slouched into cozy cushions of the sofa. “You’re telling me that I have the remarkable pleasure to meet the real 007?”

“Not 007,” Bond murmured, dropping his head onto the back of the sofa. As he closed his eyes he quietly added, “Just James Bond.”

“So tell me, Mr. James Bond, what did you do to Yousef that made him want to kill you,” Q asked gently, lowering his voice as well.

Bond cracked one eye open, frowning at the younger man as he hummed, “You know you’re a sneaky bastard?”

“Actually, that’s part of my job description,” Q smiled, resting his head against his shoulder as he shifted to get more comfortable against the couch. “But honestly, if you told me everything I could better help you finish this,” he lied easily, finding that Bond in this sleepy, morning state was much easier to handle.

“You’ve read the full report from that operation,” the man said, hesitating for a few moments while he simply watched Q, assessing whether or not Q was trustworthy or useful enough to share all of the information. He finally decided, settling higher on the sofa and beginning, “There was a girl. She was special. Beautiful, smart… But on the top of that she had something, a spark that attracted everyone. And because of that everyone wanted her.”

“She was the one who asked you questions?” Q said, trying to sound calm.

Bond nodded and this time his smile was one of sorrow, “Yousef was with her before she had met me. She loved him but he wanted her only for information she could get because of her work. And she probably had no idea who she loved until really powerful people got to him and began to use him as bait.”

“Did she-I mean…” Q murmured, knowing that if he’d raise his voice too much, Bond would be able to read his emotions. But even still, he wasn’t able to stop the tears that began to form as he asked: “She’s the one that died in Venice?”

“The one who betrayed everything she believed in to save him,” Bond said, slowly leaning forward towards Q. He looked at the young man, puzzled. “Q, are you feeling sorry for me?”

The young men flinched at the question, realizing that Bond was just inches from him. He could see clearly each shade of blue in the agent’s eyes. The man’s face was tanned and from the closeness Q could see traces of stubble along Bond’s jaw. He dropped his gaze, following the lines of strong shoulders, wrapped in a bathrobe. Bond had tied it sloppily around his waist and now the robe had opened, showing much more tanned skin and Bond’s well defined torso marked with an array of scars that were like a map of the man’s past.

“Sorry, I’m…” Q gasped, trying to control himself, but all he could think was how he yearned to reach out and touch, to see if Bond’s skin was as warm as it looked. “I’m so sorry. I’m being really unprofessional,” he added, making a move to stand up to get away as fast as possible, but Bond was still faster.

The agent caught his wrist, pulling him back. “We’re no longer at MI6. Q, we’re not even on duty. I’m dead for Christ’s sake and you…” he said very slow and very carefully. “You came here off the radar, so don’t hold back now. Let yourself have what you really want.”

Q’s brain finally kicked back into gear. “You have no idea what I want,” Q responded coldly as he pulled his hand from the grip, before standing and going down the hall.

He heard Bond’s snort of laughter when he picked up the phoned and ordered something to eat quietly. He didn’t felt like eating but he had to put some distance between them. Otherwise he might do something stupid. Something that would make him hate himself more than he already did. He realized that he’d just been fooling himself all along. Bond wasn’t interested in him. It was his job to make a mark think that there was something between them, so that he could get whatever he wanted from them. And he had it down to a science. Seduce. Use. Leave. Repeat.

Q exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment to calm down. By the time he opened them, he was ready to face Bond again. He entered the room to find the man using the tablet, scrolling through Q’s files.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Q said in the tone he reserved for particularly unruly subordinates. The man slowly drew his gaze up from the iPad, frowning when Q continued. “I came here to work and to clean up the mess I made. Not to entertain you.”

Bond seemed to be surprised for a moment when he looked at Q quizzically. He stood up and crossed the room to Q before saying, “If I wanted you in my bed, you would have been there last night.”

“Oh, should I be grateful then?” Q laughed, “Or perhaps hurt that I’m not attractive enough for you.”

Bond laughed, “Actually, you’re amazingly sexy when you’re angry.”

“Behave,” Q warned, “and just let me do my work.”

“You know,” Bond shook his head in disbelief, rubbing his eyes when he added with a sigh, “You’re an idiot sometimes.”

“What did you say?” The younger man asked, narrowing his eyes, “I’m an idiot?”

“I just told you things about my past that I’ve never told anyone before,” Bond explained slowly, moving even closer to Q as he continued, “And the only thing you were preoccupied with was whether or not I wanted to sleep with you. So tell me, which of us is thinking about shagging?”

“I-I’m not… I-” Q mumbled, trying to come up with something, anything that could sound like a reasonable excuse but he gave up. He lowered his gaze and felt his cheeks get hotter with each passing moment of silence. “I don’t-“ he started, but was cut off by knocking at the door.

“Go to the bedroom,” Bond commanded, already pushing Q down the hall.

“But it’s just my tea and-” Q started, Bond moved him aside and reached for the gun from coffee table.

“Stay there until I say you can come out,” Bond told him before closing the bathroom door.

*

Q could only hear a low murmur of conversation when he pressed his still warm cheek to the surface of the door. It cooled his skin and let him calm down. God, he made such a fool of himself. All of the countless hours spent in the lab had given him the social skills of a house plant. Maybe he just couldn’t coexist with normal people anymore. Not that he really could to begin with, but still. And maybe Bond was right… Oh God, Bond was right. Q had been overreacting from the beginning. He was so focused on hiding the truth from Bond that he only saw his end of the story. He was being the same selfish asshole as with Vesper.

In the end, Bond lost someone too. Q had never loved someone like that, so he could only imagine how much pain Bond must’ve felt when Vesper died. He had tried to tell Q about it. He said so much more than words when he let his voice break, when he looked at Q with blue eyes that weren’t sharp and intimidating, but sorrowful. Bond allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of Q. He trusted Q. Because Q was the one he called when he was hiding. Q was the person who listened, and Q was the one he was protecting now. And even know that Q knew he should tell James the truth, he was afraid that James wouldn’t understand and that Q would lose everything. The chance to make sure his sister didn’t die for nothing, his job, and James. So whatever happened, he would have to follow Bond’s lead.

“Your tea arrived,” Bond announced as he pushed open the bedroom door. He walked back into the living room, waving his hand at the tray that held breakfast. In the other hand he held big bags with various logos on them. He held them up, saying, “I ordered some clothes yesterday. You don’t mind?”

“You do realize that those credit cards I’ve gave you are supplied from my bank account?” Q scrutinized the bags on his way to the tea pot.

“Then you’ll have more in the wardrobe than those ridicules cardigans and shirts that are two sizes too large.”

Q frowned at him over the edge of a cup. He finally sipped his earl gray and sighed contentedly. After a moment he murmured, “I did pack some clothes.”

“Really?” Bond tossed the bags on the sofa and picking one, he started to unwrapped it. “Crockett & Jones Alex,” he held out a pair of black, simple shoes before he reached for another bag, taking out crisp white shirt made from Egyptian cotton.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t need that,” Q assured him, coming a bit closer. “It must cost the same as your last, custom-made laptop. Something around small fortune, isn’t it?”

“It’s Turnbull and Asser slim cut. Of course it costs fortune,” Bond said matter-of-factly. “It’s not custom made because I wasn’t prepared for collecting your entire wardrobe and you’re not a regular client, but I took the smallest size. Just so I’d have the chance to admire you in it,” Bond added with another smile while he opened the last black cover, revealing a stunning tuxedo jacket.

“I have a dinner jacket,” Q said, satisfied that he predicted he would need one on this trip and packed accordingly.

“There are dinner jackets and _dinner jackets_ ,” Bond stated as he pushed the garment bag into Q’s hands.

Q looked at the black cover then at Bond again, rolling his eyes. “You sound like my-“ he began before catching himself.

“Like?” The man asked over his shoulder, looking through the rest of the bags.

“Moneypenny,” Q managed to say. He changed the subject, hoping Bond didn’t notice the slip, “I think I might have a plan how we can get to the bottom of this.”

“I’m all ears,” Bond smiled back, leaving clothes in their bags. 


	5. Game

The thin, almost invisible foil stretched out on the dining room table in front of Bond. It was shining in the dimmed lighting of the streetlamps down on the street. A chilly, light wind was breezing in through the balcony doors, blowing the chiffon curtains. The subtle sound coming from inside the suite merged with myriad of noises coming from the street below; cars, laughter, and the very distant sound of the sea. He bent over the table to look closer at the film, when he saw a series of small indentations marking it. Bond smirked with a mix of disbelief and admiration.

Straightening up and putting hands in the pockets of his tuxedo trousers he slowly walked to sit next to Q on the sofa. The man was focused on the laptop screen; his fingers dancing over the keyboard and finishing programming of the watch connected to the computer. “I wonder what happened to the ‘no more exploding-pen-type-gadgetry’ rule,” Bond had asked when he first saw the bug that morning. .

“These are _microsensors_ ,” Q explained, bringing up the schematics on the laptop, “They are spread on the plastic carrier, sticky enough on both sides to cling to a hand. I will have to press my hand to it, so they will cover my skin, and then by holding his hand, they’d activate, starting to send coded information to the watch. That way, we’d have the access to devices he uses until the microsensors wash away. By then, I will have a full password set and connectivity with his laptop and phone. We will know his every move, every conversation, all phone numbers and sent messages. Then we’ll know who really wants you dead.”

The kid was brilliant, there was no doubt about it. Bond still didn’t know if he was more impressed by Q’s idea and how quickly he put this plan together, or how incredible he looked in slick, skinny trousers. Q explained the plan in detail a few hours ago. Bond thought it was great, if not for one big flaw.

Yousef knew who Bond was. So the hardest part of the plan included Q and Bond, switching places for the time being; Q went into the field, Bond stayed behind. Q had to get close enough to place the bug, the same bug that was currently spread out on the foil, and get away. That, Bond did not like. It wasn’t that he wasn’t keen on playing second fiddle, it was more that Q would be safer not in close contact with Yousef. Bond knew Yousef well enough to not underestimate him.

Having access to the hotel’s system, Q could see that Yousef had a reservation made for two people today at Le Louis XV, the hotel’s restaurant. After that, the man would probably go for a little gambling session, like he had done every night for the past two weeks. So, Q could play his part during Yousef’s dinner, catching him before the casino. Bond would have to be nearby, just in case Q’s plan didn’t work out so well, like the hotel lobby. Too far for Bond’s taste and maybe that’s why he still felt uncomfortable.

Although he had done undercover work with non-operatives a couple of times, he felt like he was doing it for the first time. It wasn’t because Q had worked with him before or because he knew him so much more than the other’s he had worked with. He didn’t know why he felt a surge of panic every time he thought that something might happen to Q. Of all people, Bond didn’t want to lose the last person he actually might trust.

“You’re thinking very loud,” Q said gently, giving him a concerned look over the top of the frame of his glasses. “Stressed?”

Bond half smiled, answering with a question, “Are you?”

“Why should I? I have you at my back,” Q smiled, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. “Besides what can go wrong? I’ll approach him and introduce myself. Then I’ll admire his god-awful Ferrari and say that I want to buy one too.”

“Simple as that,” Bond admitted and checked the time on his Omega, “We should get ready.”

“Right,” Q sigh, disconnecting his watch and standing up quickly, looking around and collecting last parts of his clothing.

“It’s a beautiful piece of jewelry,” the man noticed when Q took the watch with him to the bathroom, but didn’t put it on. Bond followed him, standing in the doorway and catching Q’s gaze in the mirror as Q put his cuff-links on, “Although I’m not that fond of Rolex.”

“I’ve got it fro-from… my family,” Q stammered, blinking and adjusting his cuffs, “But it’s not standard one. I introduced a couple of my own modifications to it.”

“Of course you did” Bond smirked, looking now as Q struggled with his bow tie.

He looked perfect in the new shirt. And really, Bond would be lying if he said that he didn’t like those baggy shirts and loose cardigans that Q was so fond of. They made the young man look so vulnerable and so easy to break that Bond constantly fought the temptation to take Q in his arms, take him to bed and never let him go. For his own safety, of course.

Now, Q wasn’t so delicate, so breakable… The white fabric of the shirt contrasted with the raven color of Q’s actually combed hair, giving an elegant sharpness to the young man’s appeal. And while the black curls were finally tamed, they still looked soft, intriguing Bond even more and tempting him to touch them. And it was definitely temptation that made him step forward.

“Give me that,” he said, moving to stand in front of Q. He reached up to take Q’s hand and move it away from the bow-tie. Bond looked down and began to work on the knot, effortlessly tying it in moments.

Bond’s hands were still on Q, and he ran one lightly around to the nape of Q’s neck. The other went under his chin and tilted Q’s head up.

“Promise me something,” he said, looking at Q carefully. For a long moment, he thought of how easy it could be to close the distance between their lips and kiss him and how soft the Quartermaster’s lips would be against his own. But instead of doing anything, he simply murmured, “Be careful out there.”

Q’s eyes widened with surprise for a short moment before he nodded, “I’ll do my best,” he said quietly. “I’ll be waiting in the lobby,” he added, rushing from the bathroom.

When Bond turned to check his reflection in the mirror, he found that he was smiling unintentionally the whole time. Like an idiot. Or like a pathetic schoolboy who had been so close to stealing a kiss from his crush. In the hall he heard the muted click of the door closing behind Q. He must have already applied the microsensors and left for the lobby.

Bond still felt the warmth of Q’s skin under his hands and it seemed so right. When the young man got back, he could finally have his Quartermaster... But he didn’t want it to be that way this time. He wanted to give Q the decision because Q wasn’t one of his informants, he wasn’t his target. There was no need to push or manipulate him.

So Bond decided to wait. This one time he would try for something else, something he hadn’t even been looking for a long time. Something he had with Vesper… And no, he didn’t even try to fool himself that what was between him and Q wasn’t familiar. It was almost like history repeating itself, maybe giving him a second chance. He couldn’t cock it up.

He breathed out slowly, preparing himself for the operation. Checking his cufflinks and bow-tie again in the mirror, he give a last look, ready to go downstairs when he spotted Q’s watch laying still on the side of the sink beside his glasses.

“Too many distractions,” he murmured to himself, smiling again when he picked up the Rolex. He weighed it in his hand as he went to the living room to grab his jacket.

There still was some time left before Yousef’s reservation, he could give the watch to Q in the lobby. He put his gun in the holster over the shoulders, checking the room again to make sure they took everything they needed. Buttoning his jacket, he took another interested look at the Rolex, admiring Q’s work. He rubbed it gently, playing with the metal bracelet as he closed the door and went for the elevator. The blurry light in the corridor slid beautifully over the watch’s face when he rotated it in his fingers. Then he saw it, a small engraving on the inside of the case back.

He knew that he shouldn’t look at something so private, but his instinct took over him and he read it.

                         _You’ll always be my little brother - Vesper._

Bond felt his body grow cold as he read and re-read the inscription slowly, “My little brother,” he growled, each syllable heavy with familiar fury. The elevator’s door slid open in front of him, giving the man no time to think. As he entered it, he felt white hot anger spread underneath his skin. Now everything made sense. Every feeling of something not being right, every strange hint of déjà vu, Q’s odd behavior and his sudden coldness.

Bond was a fool. A complete, old fool. Q didn’t come here to help. He even didn’t come to Monaco because he felt responsible for failed operation. He didn’t feel bad for risking Bond’s life. He was here to use Bond to get revenge for his sister’s death. Bond got played by a lab rat. No, no… not just some techie. He was played by the brother of the women who betrayed him. Maybe she saved him in the end, but first she lied to him, just like Q did.

The elevator doors opened and he crossed the lobby in long steps. He saw Q leaning against the bar, focused on his glass of white wine and waiting for Bond. The man’s grip tightened on the Rolex when he came closer, and he threw the damn watch on the marble countertop.

The sudden movement made Q flinch. He looked up from the counter to Bond, confused.

“You’ve lost something,” Bond hissed, gesturing at the watch.

“What? Wh-” Q started to speak but Bond just pulled him in closer by his lapels and crushed their lips together, finally taking what he wanted.

The young man tried to fight back for a moment, but the agent only held him tighter, biting at Q’s lips to get them to open. Bond’s tongue slipped inside Q’s mouth, tasting the wine from it greedily. His hands wrapped around Q’s slender waist, tightening and crushing his delicate body. The painful groan that Q made was almost satisfying. Bond wanted to cause him pain. Right now he wanted to tear his body apart in bed, paying for every fake feeling Q tried to sell him with all those deceptive words and fake smiles. He wanted…

“James, please,” Q cried out against his lips, with a voice that carried honest emotions this time, real fear that stopped Bond.

He pulled back, looking down at Q with empty eyes. “You even don’t taste like her. You’re useless,” he added watching as Q began to realize what Bond had learned.

In the next moment, he felt the sharp pain of Q slapping him across the face. He smiled coldly, impressed by the reaction. He even didn’t care that they had started to draw the attention of a few guests and bartenders.

One of them rose from nowhere to their side, asking politely but with obvious concern, “Can I get something for you, sir?”

“Actually yes. Three measures of Gordon’s, one measure of vodka, half of Kina Lillet, shaken with ice, served with lemon peel,” Bond said now smiling at the bartender brightly.

“You mean Vesper Martini, sir?” the bartender asked.

“Precisely,” he agreed, moving his careful gaze at Q, saying cruelly, “When you try it once, you’d never have enough of it.”

“How dare you?” Q hissed when the bartender disappeared with the order, rubbing his already swallowed lips with the back of his hand.

“How dare I?” Bond growled, frowning now at Q with honest astonishment. “ _How dare I_? You lied to me. That all you are. One disgusting lie after another.”

“I-I didn’t know,” Q stammered, dropping his gaze to the watch and focusing on putting it on his wrist.

“Don’t give me this shit now,” Bond laughed without amusement. “You knew exactly what she did. To me, to her country, even to you. You’ve read the files.”

“I’ve…” Q started, but he was interrupted by the bartender placing the drink in front of Bond. Q nodded him to assure that everything was alright when he continued, “They didn’t tell me. They kept it from me until I hacked the files by myself, two days ago while I investigated Yousef.”

“And you think that after all of that I’d believe in anything you say?”

“You can always call Mallory,” Q shrugged, “Oh, right. You _can’t_ because you have to be dead to finish this.”

“True,” the agent agreed, sitting on the bar stool closest to Q. He adjusted his cuffs and took a long sip of the drink, giving himself time to think when he said suddenly, “I can do something else though. I bet you didn’t actually get days off and no one at MI6 knows where you are or what you’re doing,” Bond explained, smiling when Q’s expression changed quickly to fearful, which meant he was right. “I could be an anonymous informant and call MI6 to tell them where their beloved Quartermaster is. M would be delighted to find out you’re off the leash. Doesn’t this mean you’re a hacker and a criminal?” Bond observed as Q opened his mouth, wanting to say something, to defend himself but giving up, he sink into the barstool.

“You’re not going to believe me, aren’t you?” he asked dully.

The agent just shook his head. Q sighed sadly.

“Then call M-” he started but suddenly stopped, looking over Bond’s shoulder, whispering “Yousef.”

Bond looked back just in time to see the man entering the hotel. In few seconds he would pass them, taking the only way from there to the restaurant, having the clear view of the agent.

“Fuck, he is going to see you,” Q hissed, thinking about the same.

“No, he won’t,” Bond said calmly. He looked at the young man seriously as he ordered, “Do what I do and don’t push me back.”

This time, he pulled Q to him more gently, taking his face into his hands and firmly pressing their lips together. Q tried to protest, but he quickly gave into the touch.

“Make it real,” Bond whispered against Q’s lips, which opened for him in invitation.

He deepened the kiss, licking into Q’s mouth when heard the brunette stifle a moan of pleasure. Even if it was fake, it made Bond want Q even more. Emotions rushed through him as if a dam had broken. Everything he felt for that man, all the yearning to possess his body, to have Q under him for hours. It was irrational, probably stupid and definitely irresponsible… But so was everything else he did in life.

He held the younger man in his arms, this time with gentleness, moving his hands under the tuxedo jacket to place them on Q’ slender back. His lips started to traveled from Q’s mouth, over his freshly shaved cheeks to the now unruly mess of Q’s hair. He kissed hungrily the delicate spot just behind Q’s ear to cause another shiver running through the man’s body.

“James, people are watching and he’s-” Q whispered, breathing heavily when Bond moved his hand lower, sliding his fingers under Q’s belt to bring him even closer, hiding his own face completely when Yousef passed by.

And even when he saw that Yousef had already moved on to speak to the concierge of the restaurant, he still didn’t pull back, letting his hands travel slowly up Q’s back as his lips lazily returned to Q’s lips and kissed him softly one more time.

“If you want to make me believe you,” Bond whispered, taking younger man’s face again and forcing him to look up. “Then show me I can trust you.”

“You still want Yousef’s information?” Q asked breathily.

Bond nodded, saying quietly, “Go”. As he watched Q turn away and walk over to approach Yousef at his table, he thought with a sudden smile that he had regained the control over this game between them, but he didn’t feel any concern for using Q now. He’d get the information he needed tonight and then he’d put Q on a plane back to London tomorrow morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a bit early, I know! I hope no one would be upset about it ^^ But I'll be traveling for a couple of days and I need to do the next update on Sunday just to set up everything before my leave ^^ 
> 
> So yeah, I really hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading! Your every word, comment, kudo or bookmark meant a word to me :) I really appreciate that you want to waste your precious time for reading this! 
> 
> Kiiiiisses to all of you :*** 
> 
> PS. I don't know how about you but that was like a really intense and emotional chapter to write!


	6. Decision

Bond sat across the table from Q, watching as the young man pushed his food from one side of the plate to the other, barely eating. He didn’t know how the kid lived with his diet and the amount of sleep he got, or didn’t get. Apparently it didn’t run in the family. Vesper loved good food, like any other woman Bond knew.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He clenched his jaw as he tried to hold back the curses playing on the tip of his tongue. It was happening again. He thought of her every time he looked at Q. The memories weren’t triggered by the resemblance. Although Q did look a bit like her, with his raven hair, red lips and that smooth skin… But he was completely different. In the way he moved, in the way he talked and looked at Bond. His face didn’t have the same lines, the same look, even if Bond still found it gorgeous. Q didn’t have the same attitude. He was more delicate, more graceful in everything that he did. It was strange and shocking to discover that Vesper seemed now even stronger compared to her brother. And no, Q wasn’t some soft, tearful geek type. He had a tongue on him, he could cut with his sharp remarks like razors and after all he was a head of Q-Branch, many people were afraid to even look in his direction when he had bad day but… He was just more delicate. And only the knowledge that he was Vesper’s brother made Bond think again, remember and feel.

He was angry… God, he was the definition of fury, now even more than yesterday. Because yesterday Q did what he was asked. He shook Yousef’s hand, applied the microsensors and did the job. Afterwards, Bond sent Q back to the apartment without words, then went back to the casino and picked up some young man to fuck on his yacht. He didn’t say much on the yacht either and was hardly an attentive partner. Bond tried to not think about the fact that the guy was slender, dark haired, and alabaster white. But at the same time, he knew it was just a terrible substitute, some far imitation that would never sustain his real needs.

He left with the dusk, taking with him a half empty bottle of Macallan. Coming to the apartment, he found Q buried in the sheets of king size bed and a note left on the coffee table.

‘He is moving to Cannes, Hotel Intercontinental Carlton’

Bond arranged everything for their leave and then finished off the bottle, watching as the young man shifted anxiously in the bed. He still wanted to fuck him senseless and a romp with a tasteless substitute wouldn’t change that. Maybe he just had a thing for Lynds? When they got into his head, which wasn’t difficult for them, they just stayed there.

The next morning found the pair sitting at a small, quiet restaurant near marina, eating breakfast. Bond watched Q’s face, barely visible behind his messy hair. He still wanted him. He wanted him more. It was sick. It frightened him to the point at which he didn’t recognize himself anymore… which he sickeningly recognized was exactly in his style. He always wanted what he couldn’t get.

“What’s your real name?” He asked suddenly to stop the annoying stream of thoughts. “Or should I call you Mr. Lynd?”

Q raised his stunned gaze, adjusting his glasses. “Aden. My name is Aden Lynd.”

“God, your parents did know how to choose a name, did they?” Bond rolled his eyes, throwing the fork on his untouched dish.

“Vesper’s the one who chose,” Q shrugged, sitting back to give Bond unsure look.

Bond was hiding his eyes behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. He slowly drained his drink, trying to fight off the damn hangover. All the same, he couldn’t hold Q’s gaze. He couldn’t stand all emotions that were bubbling underneath the surface because recognizing them meant triggering more doubt, more questions.

He should really send Q back to London. He should. But what if Q really didn’t know how Vesper died? What if he didn’t know about her involvement before? Bond and Q had worked together so long, and their relationship was normal before, promising even. If MI6 kept information about Q from Bond, then they had to keep something from the young man too. So he must have been furious discovering everything just _now_. Bond would be furious. He would do the same exact thing Q did. Maybe he wouldn’t lie. Or would he? Bond lied all the time. He didn’t trust a single person. Honestly, he didn’t trust Q completely either. If Bond did trust him, he wouldn’t have questioned Q’s presence in Monaco from the beginning. So Q probably felt that he was alone. He was scared, he was hurt and enraged. He acted like a wounded animal: restricted, stunned and ready to lash out any anything he deemed a threat. He was exactly like Bond all those years ago.

And as Bond realized this, he felt some anger leave with each exhale. He looked at the Aston parked nearby, packed with their belongings. He set up their leave yesterday and now he only had to share his plans with Q. But with the passing irritation, he didn’t feel the need to send his Quartermaster back. Besides the fact that Q was really useful and already on the run, Bond felt sorry for him. He couldn’t fight this feeling of wanting to take care of this man and to take some responsibilities for him. And yes, it was so naive to feel that way, so unprofessional…  He was a killer after all. A murderer. He didn’t feel sorry. He didn’t feel regret. His whole life depended on it. He was a ruthless bastard, and he felt utterly good about it. Usually. Usually he was more than fine with fucking and shooting his way across the world. He didn’t empathize with his conquests or marks. After all of these years, Bond wasn’t so sure he was even capable of any decent attempt of empathy. And that didn’t bother him. But not so much when Q was directly involved. With Q he wasn’t just 007. He was also James. Q knew everything about him, his every secret. Bond could be himself with him. And that... That was just too precious to let it go.

He reached to the inside pocket of his linen jacket, taking out an envelope. Throwing it on the table, he said, “Your airline tickets.”

He saw that Q flinched on his seat, like he’d been woken up from his own thoughts. His eyes were bright in the morning sun, more green than gray this time. Maybe the color of his new blue shirt brought a new sharpness to his face, or maybe it was just the fact that Q had blocked himself from Bond again. Still, he reached for the envelope slowly.

Bond, however, leaned close enough to cover Q’s hand with his own to stop him from taking it.

“I understand you want me back in London?” Q asked, confusion hidden in his careful gaze, trying to study Bond’s face and read through his sunglasses.

“I still want that,” the agent agreed, slowly sitting back and moving his hand, “I also need your skills. So decide yourself what is best for you.”

Q took the envelope, weighing it in his hand. He looked at it for a long moment, before he raised his gaze to Bond, “What’s the catch?”

“You’d work for me. You wouldn’t be here as the Quartermaster. It’d be nothing like MI6, understood?” Bond said with this tone flat, unemotional. “I won’t take responsibility for you. If something happens…” the man hesitated for a moment, before continuing, “If something happens then you’re with this on your own.”

“In other words, I’m helping you find people who want you dead,” Q said carefully, “In return you’re helping me to avenge my sister?”

“Are you ready to give her that much?” Bond smirked, arching his eyebrows in real surprise. “She is dead, she left you for another man without thinking twice, and she betrayed you for him. And still you want to give up your life, your entire future, your job, and-” Bond stopped before he could say ‘and me to that bitch?’

“You don’t get it, do you?” Q laughed bitterly. “You never would. She saved me. She raised me. She gave up her life for me.”

Bond watched as Q began tearing the envelope apart. He threw the pieces unceremoniously onto the table, in tacit agreement.

“Fine,” the agent only said, shaking his head, “I’ll call Eve to say you’re with me.”

“But you sai-” Q wanted to oppose but Bond interrupted him.

“You work for me, remember?” Bond said slowly. “We’re going to do everything I say. And we’ll take a boat to Cannes.”

“A boat?” Q pronounced slowly, wincing. “Why can’t we stick with the car?”

“We’re too visible in the car,” Bond explained, finishing his drink. “And the boat is much easier to handle on hangover.”

Q rolled his eyes, giving Bond his best disapproving look, “I hate boats.”

“Is there any way of transportation you like at all?” Bond asked dryly.

“I just don’t like water,” Q shrugged, picking up his fork and as he skewered a cherry tomato, he added quietly, “My parents died on a boat.”

“Sorry,” Bond said, far gentler than he had intended, “But there is no other way for us to be safe.”

Q sighed with resignation, letting his head drop back. He grunted something under his breath, as he brought his hands up to rub his eyes. Now his whole throat was exposed, his Adam’s apple moved slowly, sensually when he swallowed hard. God, how much Bond would give now just to kiss that place and lick it slowly, lingering and taking his time. He wanted to taste Q more. The kiss from the night before just made him hungrier, more in want for that body. And now he couldn’t have it. And now he knew it would drive him mad. He tried to calm down by reminding himself that he needed Q’s brain, not his body. It didn’t work.

When he spoke again, his voice carried remnants of desire, “You’ll be fine, you will be there with me.”

“As if that ever helped,” Q grunted, holding his head up and looking at Bond with disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah the chapter was posted earlier but I'd be fully online at Friday and I didn't want to make all of you wait :) 
> 
> That's mean I'll update as soon as I'll be back home which should give us standard 5 days of waiting :D At least I try to believe that I calmed you down with this one :D
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Unknown

Q had to blink couple of times, when Bond introduced him to their new mode of transportation. He watch as the staff of marina was relocating their luggage from the car and onto the yacht. Galeon Skydeck flooded in front of him with grace and full glory on the sea’s surface, inviting him in with the open view of its luxurious interiors.

“So how is it?” Bond asked, emerging from the cabin.

“This is inconspicuous in your opinion?” Q asked doubtfully, still not able to decide if he was ready to go on board.

“We can’t stand out from the crowd,” Bond shrugged, stepping on a gangway and holding his hand out for Q.

“Oh yes, we wouldn’t want _that_ ,” Q snorted, not even moving in the agent’s direction. He bit his lips, undecided. Putting his hands in to the pockets of light, wool trousers that Bond bought him yesterday, he dropped his gaze, and breathed out heavily. Agreeing to the man’s conditions was one thing, trusting him to the point when he had to step on that devilish boat was another. He could believe that Bond had all skills needed to run the yacht, but he was too damn afraid to spend some time on water, let alone be completely at its mercy. With planes he just felt sick, he didn’t like the sensation. But with boats, he was scared to death thinking that below him was an unexplored wild depth, ready to swallow them in any moment. And there was more… There was Bond himself. He still didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what he was getting into. He didn’t understand why he followed Bond. It was not about Vesper. No, not anymore. He used her as an excuse. He was a mess. He had to be a masochist, really. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting Bond go alone, but at the same time he was so afraid to be in his presence and feel the man’s contempt. It might be a case of his pride, of proving Bond that he was still worth of his trust but this battle could be already far gone. Bond must hate him for everything what he did.

“I don’t know if this is good idea,” Q said finally, not looking up. “I can go by car and-“

“Aden, don’t be ridiculous,” Bond said suddenly, so soft that Q felt like a light shiver going down his spine when he heard his name in the man’s lips for the first time. “It’s not a sailing yacht and I’m perfect at handling it in any circumstances.”

“Are you completely sure about that?” Q asked with a bit of irritation in his voice. “Are you always so damn sure about yourself?”

“Come on,” James whispered, reaching for Q’s wrist, pulling him close. “You don’t even have to be on the upper deck if you don’t want to.”

Q let Bond pull him inside. The elegant but modern interiors surrounded them with the specific smell. He remembered it from his parent’s boat, this mix of condensed salt, a bit dumpiness of sea water and freshness. He felt a gentle, familiar rocking when they moved with soft waves in the marina’s bay. Apart from that everything was different. The yacht looked like a fancy apartment inside, comfortable in every aspect and with too much space just for the two of them.

“Here is the cockpit with the living area and kitchen but I think you’d prefer downstairs,” Bond said close to him, still holding his wrist.

Q didn’t find this touch to be offensive. It wasn’t strong or forcing, but just warm enough to ground him and convince that he was indeed in good hands. He felt that he relaxed under it, breathing out with relief when Bond led them under the deck. Q entered the cozy and warm space dominated by wood and light colors of sofas and cushions. Mirrors reflected every part of the interior so the inside of the yacht looked even bigger, more spacious, and comfortable to live in.

“Look, there is only one bedroom here because it custom made so you can have it for yourself, together with this reception room to set up the computer,” Bond informed him, finally letting go.

Q nodded slowly, “Why are you like this? Why are you so nice when… When I did-I mean…”

“Q, I might not have your brains, but I’ve lived in this word long enough to know what is needed now,” Bond said thoughtfully, stepping from the stairs. “And right now I need you to be here, on the boat.”

“All for the good of this case?” The young man asked, not being entirely sure what he wanted to hear.

“Of course,” Bond shrugged; his voice was light and unemotional. “The good of the case is what we both want, isn’t it?”

Q smiled faintly, trying to not reveal how fake the smile really was, “Entirely,” he agreed, not able to hold sad tones sneak into his voice when he looked at the agent disappearing on the stairs.

Shit, Bond was still mad at him and Q didn’t know what he could do to change that. For now, he had to focus on the case and try to please the man that had more information. That was the most reasonable plan. The only one he had. And maybe… Maybe he would stick to the truth this time, telling Bond everything he knew when the occasion would arise.

*

Bond settled behind the cockpit, turning on the engine. The boat growled with full power but he managed to move it smoothly. Someone from marina’s staff guided him between another boats, helping him to maneuver on the clogged alleys. And after a moment he was on the open sea, pushing the handle on the full speed and heading out.

The wind got inside the boat through open windows, rustling his hair with a sudden burst.  He smiled to that, feeling as his hangover slowly leaved his body with pleasant blows of humid air. It carried the smell of salt and freshness, calming him down.

Bond sank further into a comfortable chair, taking his phone out. He wondered for a few minutes, scrolling through some web pages without giving them much thought. He needed to prepare himself for this call, even when he didn’t want to call Mallory directly. And coming from death wasn’t that difficult or uncomfortable enough to warrant being afraid to speak with the regular personal assistant of his boss. This time however he had bigger news to tell. This time he had Quartermaster on the run with him, and that was information he should be really afraid to pass to Mallory.

He put the number quickly, pressing the call button with a heavy breath.

Eve picked it up after fourth signal, growling from her side, “Q, it better be you.”

“My heart aches on the thought that you’ve already forgotten about me,” Bond said with pretended concern.

“Bond,” Eve stated more than asked. “Already tired of being dead?”

“Miss Moneypenny,” Bond smiled to himself, trying to modulate his voice into lighter tone. “Maybe I just missed you?”

“You hardly miss anyone,” she said with well heard bitterness. “What might you want from me when you call me on my private number and try to bribe me with smooth words and charming tone?”

“Bribe you? That’s a really nasty word,” Bond snorted. “I’m calling to say I’m safe and sound. I thought it might interest someone that I’m alive.”

“I knew you were alive,” Eve’s smirked reflected in her voice. “You just had to reach your annual limit of resurrections while we have a real crisis here.” She paused a moment before continuing more seriously, “Q disappeared. He got two days off. Today he was supposed to be in the office but he isn’t. He’s not in his flat. He doesn’t answer his phone. After the bomb exploded, it really got into him. He stayed here all night even if M said he had to go home.” She sighed, “He really cares about you, you know?”

Bond turned in the chair, looking down at the passage to the lower level of the boat. He heard Q’s movements coming from downstairs as he listened to Eve.

“He’s with me,” he said suddenly, causing a long silence on the other side. “I need him here.”

“Here? Where?” Even signed deeply, probably dropping into her chair. “And don’t tell me you seduced our Quartermaster… Oh God, you’ve must seduced him to force him to take the plane.”

“Yes, I seduced him,” Bond admitted, focusing his attention back on the boat to take a long curve and pass by another yacht. “I made him join me. You know how I can be persuasive.”

“Too well,” Eve said sharply. “What should I tell M?”

“Tell M that Q will be back in couple of days. We need to finish this and find those people from Cairo,” James explained calmly. “But make sure M knows that Q had nothing to do with this. He’s helping me because he’s sure it was a direct order. I’m the only one responsible here,” Bond added, before suddenly pressing the red button to cut off the connection.

He took the sim card out of the phone, threw it to the water, and then he swiftly turned the rudder, finally taking another direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm home! Yeeeeeey! Finally! :D I wouldn't say that being in London was bad... But it's so much better to have good Internet connection again :D
> 
> Thank you for all those kudos, comments and hits, thank you for reading this incredibly monstrous story, the product of my wiled imagination :) 
> 
> Kisses!


	8. Name

They managed to get to Cannes in an hour, using the full speed of the yacht. Another hour took them to moor and settle in the marina. Then Bond disappeared for some time, or he just seemed to be absent from the upper deck since Q couldn’t hear sounds coming from upstairs anymore.

He was grateful that the agent didn’t interrupt him for all this time, letting Q to get used to the surrounding and all sensations. The yacht was stable and felt strong when it cruised the water, but Q still felt a little bit calmer now that they were closer to the shore.

Taking the privilege and opportunity of being not forced to go up on the deck he changed into his favorite, though thoroughly torn, jeans, enjoying the calming solitude. He could focus on the job, and get to setting up his laptop and rest of his workspace.

When Bond came back to him after couple of hours, when the sun was setting low on the horizon, Q was already accustomed with every device Yousef was using so far, gaining full access. Bond appeared on the stairs just in time when Q located their mark, connecting to his mobile’s GPRS.

Bond changed his clothes into something less formal. Somehow he looked younger when wearing just a plain light sweater and wool trousers. He was barefoot, with tousled hair still wet from swimming. The bruise on his forehead was already fading out, now being just a darkened shadow on his tanned skin, showing these incredible healing abilities of his body.

“Eat something,” he said, putting a steaming bowl of food in front of Q, moving aside his laptop. “You already look like Ford’s model.”

Q snorted a laugh, sniffing the dish with curiosity, “Ford’s model? That’s the cheapest line I’ve heard,” he said, still smelling the bowl as he tried the food. After a moment of consideration he looked at Bond with skepticism and asked, “You bought this paella, don’t you?”

“I bought rice and shrimps and the rest, yes,” Bond confirmed, falling onto the couch beside Q with his own bowl. “Sorry for not providing fancy food this time but my skills are limited in this subject and it’s safer to eat here.”

“Mm, so you cooked this?” Q asked with his mouth full, devouring the delicious dish.

“I do cook, you know.” Bond couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Normally, I indulge myself with the best quality when our beloved employer so kindly picks up the bill. But when I’m not at work, and paying for it myself, I tend to cook.”

“Yeah, unlike me,” the young man swallowed big piece of the shrimp, licking the tomato sauce from his lips with another murmur of contentment, “But usually I’m going for ready-made dishes from Mark and Spacer.”

“You look like you’d live only on bread and water,” Bond teased.

“Some of us can’t afford the downtime required to cook full meals,” Q said matter-of-factly. “When all of you are off duty, I still have some projects to develop to keep you safe. And even during missions you have plenty of time. Didn’t you get three months off after that mission in Brazil?”

“That was a four-month-long stakeout, constant hiding in a tropical forest while keeping track of a drug cartel,” Bond growled, clearly remembering the unpleasant surroundings and the time when he got bitten by a spider when Q had to coordinate him how to use a newly developed first aid kit. “I almost died that time, I bloody deserved this time off.”

“But it was your only mission during that year and then you got only two difficult operations which took you four days maximum,” Q petulantly. “Come on, after that you’re at home, exercising, shooting and going out for fancy parties to fuck anything that moves.”

“How many world crises do you want to have out there?” Bond laughed as he handed Q the rest of his own food.

‘Are you not hungry?” Q frowned, already taking a huge bite as Bond assured him with a short, approving nod, “And I don’t want any crises to happen at all so I won’t have to prepare you equipment that you’ll destroy immediately at the first chance you get.”

“You’re implying that you don’t eat properly because of me?” Bond snorted, “Is that what all of this whining meant?”

“I’m not whining,” Q scoffed, pointing at him with his fork. “But bloody yes, it’s your fault.”

“Then you should be grateful because in that way you look like Ford’s model and I still can feed you,” Bond grinned triumphantly, adding quickly, “And I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”Q narrowed his eyes, settling more comfortably on the other side of the sofa.

“I don’t know what have been circling around MI6’s departments but I don’t fuck everything that moves,” Bond said slowly.

“Forgive me,” Q dramatically rolled his eyes, “Only the ones with legs up to the sky and perfect asses.”

Bond shook his head with disbelief, “You spend too much time with Moneypenny. You’re my handler, you should know the truth more than anyone. When was the last time I seduced someone on a mission?”

“Well,” Q bit at the end of the fork, studding Bond’s face to read some clues from it, “That receptionist in Rio?”

“I just took her number for the cause, never used it,” Bond said, putting one of his hands on his chest, “I swear.”

“Then… Your informant in Beirut on that op two months ago?”

“He had, or I believe he still has, a lover, never interested in me,” Bond half smiled, clearly satisfied. “And no to that girl in our Medical, Rose, I was just nice to her when she didn’t report me straight away for something that allegedly happened involving me, a few pairs of forceps, and a particularly difficult trainee, so I brought her flowers. That’s all. She has a loving husband.”

“Severin?” Q asked, more quiet now, watching Bond with interest and curiosity and a bit of disbelief that they were discussing Bond’s sex life in such a moment. “Almost a year ago?”

“Precisely,” Bond nodded; his smile faded but he looked at Q in the way that was almost unnerving, mesmerizing him with those blue eyes.

“Oh, okay,” Q said gently, putting the now-empty bowl aside. He didn’t repay the look, feeling his cheeks grow hotter with every breath, “But why… I mean, why don’t you take those chances?”

“I didn’t have to,” Bond answered simply, putting his arm on the back of the sofa so his fingers brushed lightly through some of Q’s wayward curls. He closed his eyes with content, murmuring, “Besides it’s not the most pleasurable thing to sleep with people that you don’t trust.”

“Did you trust Severin?” Q asked before he could hold it. “I mean, it’s not my business and-“

“Of course not,” Bond interrupted him, opening his eyes to frown at Q, “That was purely work. But she was fascinating in some way.”

“Fascinating?” Q repeated. “I don’t think I could be fascinated about people. I tend to find them tedious and more often than not, rather stupid.”

“In this world, it’s often difficult to be interested in someone else. We’re so content to live in our own world that we lose sight of how truly fascinating others can be,” Bond explained, looking at Q with half closed eyes, “Man, Woman… That doesn’t matter. When I find someone who is so fascinating that it almost hurts… Well, then I don’t want to let them go. I want it, to touch it and be near it,” he smiled lazily and before rising to lean closer to Q. He reached for Q’s face, brushing his cheek lightly with only his tumble, “You got a bit of sauce here.”

Q almost flinched in surprise but he didn’t move, paralyzed by the sudden, warm sensation running down his body. Maybe Bond wasn’t so mad at him after all. Or, what was more likely, was Bond was covering his anger with charm.

“Sorry,” Q murmured. He opened his mouth to say more when a monstrous alarm rang out from his computer, pulling away his attention.

“Bloody hell, what’s that?” Bond winced at the laptop, dropping back onto the cushions.

Q typed a simple command and enlarged the map, showing a bit closer a red, pulsating point on it and green lines of Cannes’ streets.

“Yousef,” the young man grinned, leaning towards his laptop. “It’s just a matter of safety. I’ve set an alert. We’re going to be informed every time he comes too close to our boat or to us, using his GPRS built into his mobile to trance him around the city.”

“Clever,” Bond admitted, half smiling as he watched how Q’s fingers brushed the keys to let him inside the city systems. “Are the sensors still in place?”

Q shook his head, biting lips as he pulled up a small window with a blurry image of a couple walking near their marina. “The sensors have washed away but I managed to get full access. Here is a report with his every e-mail, sms, mms or phone call as well as contents of his iPad since he’s not using any other kind of computer,” Q added, sliding in Bond’s direction on the table’s top his own tablet opening in the same time another command prompt window.

“You managed to do all of that this evening?” Bond looked at him impressed, and starting to browse the files on the iPad.

“I’ve highlighted anything that could be important to the mission in yellow,” Q informed him, looking up at Bond quickly. He slid down off the couch, sitting on the carpet and took the laptop with him. He hit a few keys, and the contents of the laptop appeared on the monitor that he had installed into the cabinet opposite the couch.

Bond smiled at the genius sitting on the floor and went back to reading through the file, “He didn’t make any contact with anyone else that we have interest in, did he?”

“It seems…” Q said carefully, narrowing his eyes at the monitor, “No, he didn’t. But he did go to al Gambero Restaurant, close to us.”

“Interesting,” the agent moved closer to the larger monitor, following two indistinct figures as they entered the restaurant, “He isn’t going to impress her with this place.”

“I don’t think she has need to be impressed,” Q snorted, pulling the girl’s profile onto the screens. In the picture she had wild red hair that hid near-black eyes that contrasted with her white skin.

Q read slowly, “Veronica Korsakov, she comes from Russia, arrested couple of times for prostitution and some scams on tourists. Never held for too long as there was no real proof of her activities.”

“Not exactly a winning combination,” Bond murmured, leaning again on the sofa behind Q. “Maybe Yousef has to be threatened into making contact with his people again?”

“What did you have in mind?” Q turned to face the man.

“Now he believes that he succeeded in killing me, so there is no need to contact with his superiors,” Bond said thoughtfully, still looking at the monitor where, by the courtesy of restaurant’s cameras and Q’s talent, he could see their target ordering a dinner for two. “He gets to enjoy the money he collected after killing me, nice hotels, good food, other various luxuries. Maybe we should shake him up a bit or I don’t know…” Bond paused with mock consideration before slyly smiling at Q, “Maybe I should confront him?”

“Now? At the restaurant?” Q pronounced slowly, pointing his finger at the screen, “Do you want to set on fire the whole city, Bond?”

“Well, maybe just a half,” the man grinned and started to stand up, taking the empty bowls from the table. “And not here. Too close to us. Maybe at his hotel?”

“But not today,” Q said quickly, “Can we just wait till tomorrow so I can be sure he didn’t attempt to contact them?”

“You think this is too dangerous, don’t you?” Bond smiled softly for just a moment, “This is my job, Q. And if I die during this or any other task, it doesn’t matter, because it has to happen someday.”

“Could you just trus-” Q started to say when he took a deep breath after he realized how that sounded. “Could you just give time until tomorrow, to be sure?”

Bond sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them with visible tiredness, he said, “Fine, but whether he does or doesn’t contact his people, you’ll be honest about it, right?”

“Promise,” Q nodded, his gaze following Bond as he took the bowls into the kitchen. Somehow, the man looked even more sensual doing these simple, domestic things than when he was jumping from rooftops and shooting people. Q had seen him like that many times…Too many, with far too many dead bodies and too much blood. And no, he didn’t fault Bond for doing so, for being an assassin, a murderer and a coldblooded killer. After all they were in this together. They protected their country, doing it in the best possible way, without second thoughts, giving themselves to it. And they love it. They live for it.

Q admired Bond in many ways. He admired him for being a calm man who never hesitated to pull a trigger. Q even was a little bit envious for all the experience Bond had. He had read Bond’s file and he knew that at the beginning, 007 was unleashed and reckless. Now, he was a steady, silent and well composed professional. But that was just what Q could read, observing at work from the safety from behind his screens and computers. Now he had different vantage point. He got a close up. He could see each and every detail, from Bond’s body to his emotions. God, there was so many hidden emotions of this man, well-guarded, obscured by masks and armor. Slowly, very slowly, Q could see them one by one. He could see another side of Bond. He could understand that this was James, the fascinating core of a man who was not just a blunt instrument but a human. A human with all of his idiosyncrasies, little things like how Bond’s eyes smiled when he was really laughing, how they were surrounded by small net of wrinkles, how they were getting darker when Bond wanted Q back in Monaco and finally how they softened, just now, when Bond held himself from showing too much, from exposing himself. And that… That just made Q realize how he really felt about this man. And Q had to admit, he was in far over his head.

“You won’t go alone,” Q stood to stop Bond in the entry upstairs. “Will you?”

“Good night, Aden” Bond said with a reassuring smile and ran up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was such a crazy day! I'm still running around, trying to navigate between my job, searching for the new one and 2 project... So sorry for late update but I hope you enjoyed ;) 
> 
> I'm sooooo grateful for you interest in this story. With every person to whom this text helps to survive through the day, my personal fulfillment and joy grows :D


	9. Ambush

He didn’t even bother to take the glass, drinking straight out of the bottle. The bitter taste of whiskey washed his thoughts away but the aftertaste lasted only for seconds, leaving him again with a burning need, buzzing somewhere under his skin.

Bond lay on the sunbathing mattress on the bow of the yacht, looking up at the sky. Lights of the city were too bright here to reveal the stars, but the cold illumination of the moon slid onto the white sheathing of the boat. The night was warm, the bay was soundless and calm. He could sleep upstairs and outdoors without additional layers of clothing, but he couldn’t care less about his comfort while he was focusing more on what might happen downstairs.

His anger had shifted again into a new feeling. It transformed from yesterday’s rage into pity, then again into anger at everything and everyone and finally into pure need. For a short moment he thought about going out and finding another mindless fuck, but he quickly left that idea behind, reminding himself of yesterday’s lesson that substitutes never worked for him. He always wanted the original, unreachable for others and the most valuable… He wanted only Q.

Aden, Aden Lynd, he corrected himself. He took another sip from the bottle, thinking about Q moving downstairs. He heard some far sounds coming from under the deck, maybe soft jazz music. He could go down there, he could pin Q to the wall and bite again into those full lips, teasing them and tasting, tearing more whines and moans of pleasure. He could convince Q with every touch that his hands were the only thing Q needed right now. He could…  But he didn’t want to destroy Q that way. Bond didn’t know what would happen after he just took from Q. He wasn’t sure that he could bring Q fully into his life when he didn’t want to cause anymore pain.

Q might have lied to him now, but he never outright betrayed him. From the beginning Q was by his side, breaking rules for him almost on a daily basis.

“Well shit,” he said with another swig of the bottle.

He figured after being a part of MI6 for so long, he wouldn’t have problems like this anymore. He wanted to be only a blunt-force tool, doing his job the best he could and doing it right without involvement of emotions. After what happened with Vesper he just shut himself off, closed that chapter, tried to forget and be forgotten. He tried to be only an agent, only 007… Till last year, till M’s death. The one person who knew him, who saw the human in him, died. Without her, his identity was almost lost; he didn’t want to feel but… He started to feel even more. Just like now, he felt too much for Q. It was far too complex, making him distracted, annoyed and lost.

He stood up, unsteady on his feet. Throwing empty bottle overboard, he decided that he needed to move before he did something stupid. Besides, he needed more alcohol, more distractions. Bond knew there was some in the cabinet downstairs, but he was still more than unwilling to go down there and possibly face Q.

Taking the gun with him and spare ammunition, he jumped onto the gangplank, nearly falling from it when his foot slipped off.

“Bugger,” Bond swore under his breath, aiming for the marina’s entry.

Since the season hadn’t fully arrived, and so the city was quiet as he followed the main promenade. There were only few couples, some young people heading to clubs. The warm night lures them out while always open bars invite them in for fun. And he just needed one open store with good whiskey. Just whiskey, he had promised himself, walking down the street with his hands in his pockets and still barefoot. He even ignored a group of cute girls giggling at him, asking him for company. They weren’t enough, even all together, so he smiled and wished them a good night before continuing on.

He realized that something was odd only when he reached the far end of the promenade. He was completely alone on the street with just the sound of the city at his back. Houses on the opposite side of the promenade were silent, hidden behind thick wall of trees and bushes. There was no light coming from that direction and there was complete darkness reaching for him from the sea. The flat, black and vast area seemed unmoved and dangerous.

Under this steadiness something was not right, something annoyed him. He stopped moving, and listened. And he heard it. He heard a click of the hammer of a gun. That was it, he thought when the first shot slashed through the air. Bond jumped to the side in time to run from the bullet, falling onto the sand. Lying still on the cool surface of the beach, he waited as he took his own gun. There was just couple of seconds before another two bullets hit the sand near him. He turned, searching for something, anything. He could tell by the sound that it was a rifle, two of them, two people, maybe more. They were at the opposite side of the promenade, shooting from the directions of houses. He had two options. He could wait here, hoping for their ammunition to run out, which was unlikely, or he could move, forcing them to chase him and in the same time coming out of their hideout.

He decided in a fraction of a second. Jumping up, he started to run along the beach with bullets whizzing into the sand and under his feet. It worked. Two dark figures emerged from the black wall of trees. They were shooting now with lighter calibers, wanting to cut off his route at the end of beach. He was faster, reaching stairs that leaded him back onto the promenade. Revealing himself in the dimmed light of street lamps, he was an easy target, but now he had a full view. Two men dressed in military-style, black clothes shot at him again. He managed to reach a small beach shop, hiding behind it. Bullets grazed the wood near his head.

Bond stayed next to the wall, trying to focus. There was still alcohol buzzing in his head, clouding his thoughts. He had lived through worse, but before he didn’t have to think about someone else. He was used to getting himself into trouble, into the center of a firefight, but that was when Q was just in his ears, and not in the field with him. Bond couldn’t leave him now. Not when he was sure that those people came here also for Q.

He gave himself a few seconds to slow his breathing. He had to focus enough to hear what was happening around him. Men were close. They were waiting as well. He heard their steps and a far crackle of shortwave transmitter. Bond moved closer to the edge of the wall, looking carefully. They were coming from the side of the promenade so he moved silently on the other side, staying close to the wood. He turned the corner of the beach shop and fired two shots into each of their backs.

“That was easy,” Bond said dryly, coming closer to men lying on the pavement.

“Still spectacular, Mr. Bond,” he heard a voice coming from behind.

Bond turned back, seeing more men dressed in the same clothes as the two down assailants, surrounding him from each side. In the center, Yousef stood in front of his small army.

“Got yourself friends?” Bond, lowering his gun with resignation.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Yousef smiled easily, coming closer. He stopped in front of Bond, looking at him with mocking smile and taking the gun out of his hand.

He remembered every detail of Yousef’s face from ten years ago when he captured him in Russia and beat the shit out of him for Vesper, for everything he did. Now his face wasn’t so smooth and handsome. Scars made by Bond marked it like a constant reminder of their meeting and their history together.

“I honestly prefer to work alone,” Bond added after a moment.

“Ah, just like me before we met in Russia. But, you see, Mr. Bond,” Yousef smirked, reaching forward to tap Bond lightly on the cheek, “I learned to trust proper people. People that don’t come from Lynd’s family.”

Bond narrowed his eyes, not moving even a bit under the touch, “I can imagine that.”

“Actually, you should have learned the same,” the man smiled even wider. “Since your little genius sold you out and this time….This time you didn’t even fuck him.”

Only Bond’s eyes showed that Yousef’s words made an impact on him, widening suddenly in the darkness.

“Time limitations,” Bond said with smile that looked almost genuine.

Yousef huffed a short laugh, before giving an order to his men: “Take him.”

Bond was pushed to the car, tied up. He tried not to think. He wanted to stop the stream of thoughts rushing through his mind completely. He wanted to not get carried away with the idea that Yousef tried to plant into his head. Q would do anything to avenge his sister, but he would never betray his country. Bond may not know him completely, but he was sure about one thing: Q was always loyal.

*

Q sank down in his chair and rubbed his eyes. His groan sounded much louder in the empty room. He lifted a cigarette to his lips and took a drag. The rush of nicotine was like a blessing. He breathed out and took a moment to appreciate the cloud of smoke. Its gray, long spirals gently filled up the space around him, filling his nostrils with calming smell.

Bond probably already fell asleep, the upper deck was completely silent as was the whole marina. It was around two in the morning and Q still hadn’t stopped searching for anything, any trace, clue or trick. There was nothing, no code, no hidden message or picture on Yousef’s devices, nothing that could get Q a lead.

He crushed the cigarette in an empty glass, deciding to focus on something else and leave the trash on Yousef’s tablet alone. The man was impossibly stupid if he really didn’t know how to use the address book. So instead of digging deeper into that mess, Q pulled the profile on the girl from the restaurant again onto the screen. There was something odd about her, something familiar in her face that annoyed him. He watched her for a long moment, studying every detail of her features. Her file stated that she was just a prostitute, not even a highly exclusive one. Maybe that’s why she turned to stealing tourist’s money? But what was she doing with Yousef? Why her, just a low class girl, not particularly beautiful or interesting one? Why did he pick up her? They already discovered that Yousef was the type who would go for extravagant, expensive and luxurious. Judging by his choice of hotels, restaurants, suits and cars he liked to show off his money. So why go to a minor restaurant with a cheap girl?

Q could see a pulsating signal on the screen that meant Yousef and the girl were near the restaurant, in a club that was just next door. There wasn’t a camera there so Q was blind but he got the footage from the restaurant and now he gave it another, closer look. He didn’t find anything unusual there, except the fact that Yousef sat with his back turned to the camera and Q could only see girl’s face. She was acting normal... Except, she didn’t act like a prostitute at all. Seeing her body language he could say that she was friendly, a little bored and more focused on her phone then on her client. And maybe Q didn’t have much experience with hookers, especially female ones, but he could imagine that she supposed to be more into her sponsors since they were paying for her attention. The other odd thing was how she rubbed her eyes. She touched them lightly like they would hurt her from working too hard in front of the computer and not on the streets. She did the exact same gesture that Q did just a moment ago…

“Wait a minute,” Q murmured, going back to her picture and looking closely at her eyes. “You’re not a hooker.”

He opened a website that looked like another database, logging quickly and uploading the girl’s picture to it. The program scanned her eyes, reading them like a map. After a few moments, there was a match. Brought up on the screen was completely different picture of the same girl. Everything was different from her hair color to the lines of her face. The only similarity was hidden in her eyes. They were the same in color and shape, in the net of little veins and microscopic yellow spots that marked her irises.

“Fuck,” he breathed out the word, reading her file, “You’re a hacker. He contacted people via you… You’re his carrier pigeon, damn!”

He had to tell James. If she was a hacker, that meant she could have lead them on a merry dance all this time, being not only a point of Yousef’s contact but also his private security system. If she was a good one, and Q knew she must be, than they could be already exposed.

He connected his iPad, transferring all the data to it in order to go upstairs and talk to Bond. He was on his way up the stairs when his own security system turned on and let out a loud siren.

“What the hel-” he started, walking back to the desk and bending over the laptop, checking the location of two points on the map before making the connection. “Oh God… No, no it can’t be. You stupid bastard!”

He sat down on the sofa slowly, looking at the screen with disbelieve. He breathed out heavily couple of times, feeling like the ground would move from under his feet. He didn’t know what to do. Bond was in the same point as Yousef, moving fast. They captured him. The girl must have hacked them long ago, checking their position, invading his signal and obscuring it with her own. Apparently she wasn’t good enough to hold the signal to cover the fact they got James. That’s why his security system went off. But what that idiot was even doing there? Why did Bond always have to make a risk and be a damn hero?

“God,” he groaned, “What should I do?” he asked aloud as he stared at the still blinking red dot marked with Bond’s name.

He could go back to England, warn MI6 and let them handle the case. But he knew that they would be too late. He had long ago memorized all conduct protocols. Before SIS could implement one of them, Bond would be dead. So Q had to take care of this alone. His computer was compromised, like the rest of his devices. He had only his own gun and his watch, the only thing that was impossible to hack.

Q jumped up from the sofa, taking of his watch and connecting it with his phone. Bond had another bug on him, the standard one from MI6 with specially coded signal. The girl tracked them down from the simple GPRS signal as she had to think they would never use the government one while being on the run. She was wrong, Q knew he could use it without pulling interest from any third party. He had created it.

He activated the signal quickly via his watch. Suddenly the golden clock face changed into black display, showing blue lines of streets and routes and one, moving mark. They were taking Bond back towards Monaco. Now he only needed a car… Or anything that could get to Bond fast. So taking his leather jacket from the luggage and the gun, he rushed to get off of the boat.

The marina was empty and dangerously silent as he ran along the gangway to the entry of the marina’s parking. Finding a motorbike with a helmet was quite easy. Starting the engine was even easier. Q ignored how his hands trembled when he hid the gun under the back of his sweater. He moved from the lot with screeching tires, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. The Ducati growled on the empty streets, cutting through every red light as he checked the location on his watch and followed signal that led to a mountainous route. They were just couple of minutes ahead of him. Just couple of minutes, and then he would do everything what he could to get Bond back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit earlier since I'll be traveling for the next week (again...). I hope you liked it and that because of it you'll desperately wait for the next chapter... I'm such a horrible person, I know! ^^
> 
> Again THAAAAAANK YOU so much for reading... I mean I never thought I'll get you attention and that the story would be so reward by you but there is 99 kudos and I cannot be happier :) Thank you for finding my version of the whole Bond/Q story interesting! :D
> 
> Next chapter on Friday! :D (I hope that I'll survive the flight ^^)


	10. Shot

The interior of the car was silent. Bond spent the time assessing each of the men in the car. The driver was a tall man with immensely broad shoulders, Russian perhaps, maybe from Kazakhstan. Bond was guessing that the two guards, one in the front seat and one next to him, came from the same country. They still wore their masks, but he could see their black eyes, dark eyebrows and tanned skin. Maybe they weren’t just guns for hire, but belonged to the organization that Yousef used to work with before he was captured? They weren’t from Quantum. Bond managed to confirm a long time ago that that organization had scattered after the fiasco in Bolivia. It had to be someone else than, someone with similar influence and abilities, the same resources and slightly different methods.

He still didn’t believe Yousef. Q would never operate with someone who stood against his country. He had proven many times his unwavering loyalty. Before, when Q was only a teenager and didn’t work for MI6 and just used his skills to earn easy money, or hacking other governments’ databases for fun, he never did a single thing to be a threat to England. Bond doubted that anyone could convince him to work against England. So if Q didn’t sell him out, then who did? Who was tailing them? Who could bypass Q’s security system and trick them?

Bond cursed silently. He looked outside the window, trying to recognize surroundings. They were taking him back to Monaco, maybe further. One side of the road was limited by a massive wall of mountains when from the other side Bond saw what he presumed to be the valley below, but he couldn’t honestly see a thing by the light of the moon alone. Ahead of them, cities spread along the coast, bright with millions of lights. He didn’t recognize the road but he still kept the track of the direction. He also took time to locate his gun. It was clipped to the holster of the guy up front, out off his reach but at the same time annoyingly close. And there was another gun pointed at him since he got into the car. Needless to say, he wouldn’t have much time to try and reach for his Walther.

“Damn,” he said aloud, forcing a smile. He turned to the guy next to him, subtly testing his knots that bound his hands, “I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry?”

Three men looked at him suspiciously. Bond caught the gaze of the driver in the rearview mirror and smiled. Then he saw something, a single light reflecting in the mirror and illuminating the front window. He realized that this light had been behind them for a while, but now he could see an outline of a motorbike fading in the darkness on each sharp curve of the road.

“Ours?” the guy on the passenger seat asked the driver, seeing the light as well.

“Da,” the driver nodded, confirming, “It’s Viera.”

Veronica, Bond quickly reminded himself, recalling the girl from the restaurant.

“Are you sure?” Man looked at the driver with doubt.

“Troubles in the paradise, gentlemen?” The agent asked but he saw that the guy on the front seat relaxed, taking his hand off of the butt of his gun. He moved his hand back to the door of the car when the firing started. A shot hit one of the rear tires and it exploded, causing the car to swing into the next lane.

The driver tried to control the car and slammed on the brakes, but that caused the car to loose all traction and it started to slide. Without seatbelts, there was nothing to stop the guard next to Bond from being flung into the door and the guard in the front seat to hit the dashboard. Instead of figuring out how to get his gun, Bond reached with his tied hands for the door handle. After the car hit a roadside fence, Bond threw open the door and rolled out. He hit the ground hard, losing his breath. Before he had the chance to catch his breath, he looked up to see the rear taillights of the car disappear over the edge of the cliff. He managed to hear the screams of the men inside before the sound of crashing metal filled his ears.

The motorbike stopped near his head. The headlights made it impossible to recognize the form of the driver. Whoever it was gently cut the ropes that tied Bond’s hands off. Bond turned over onto his back, and was unable to hold back a groan as felt his every bone scream in pain.

“Are you alright?” the soft, well-known voice sounded so comforting. “I thought you would be in the first car.”

“Aden,” he said with rough voice, “Bloody hell, how you-”

“They had a hacker with them,” Q said quickly, taking off the helmet. He reached down to offer Bond a hand, “Her name is Veronica. The same skill level as me. One of the best in the world. Only the best could’ve hacked me.”

Bond slowly scrutinized the hand offered. He listened carefully to Q’s voice. Q seemed nervous; his voice was shaky and chock-full of emotion. Bond looked up at his red, tired face, at his glassy eyes that now were filled not only with relief but guilt.

He took Q’s hand finally, trying to stand straight. Probably, he had dislocated shoulder, he felt blood running along his left cheek from where he’d hit the ground. His head was already exploding with pain but he still smiled at the young man.

“That was brilliant.”

“I just wanted to help. It’s my fault,” Q murmured, taking him by the other arm and helping him walk. “We need to get out of here. Can you ride with me?”

“Yousef is in the other car,” Bond said instead, just as a sudden light came from down the road, highlighting them.

“Fuck, I figured it’d be simpler,” Q huffed.

“It’s never simple,” Bond smiled faintly, already stepping in front of the young man to protect him, “Give me the gun.”

Q obeyed quietly, letting the man maneuver them behind the bike. It was their only shield right now. Crouching behind it, they silently observed as the car pulled up near them.

“Steady,” Bond whispered, resting his arm on Q’s back, trying to help him relax and wait. “If I manage to distract them, go behind and get into their car, understood?”

Bond saw Q nod in agreement. Bond could see that Q’s breathing was even faster than before, the trembling of his body obvious, even through layers of his clothes. He focused his attention, not on the target, but on Q. His pain was too strong to think clearly, so instead he focused on his hand resting close to the warm nape of Q’s neck. He needed to protect Q. At all costs.

Two men got out of the car and stepped into the light of the motorbike. Bond recognized Yousef in an instant. He was looking around, not moving far from the car as the other man stepped forward and took aim at the two agents. He held some full automatic carbine, waiting for his boss’ sign to fire.

“And here I thought I’d never meet Vesper’s famous brother,” Yousef said calmly, walking slowly to the edge of the road. “You don’t have to hide behind that bike. I know it’s you Aden and I knew that you’d come for him.”

*

Bond’s hand ran down Q’s spine and back up to his neck. He could see Q relax under the touch.

“It’s such a shame I lost that car,” Yousef said, walking closer to the bike, “I just wanted to use you as bait.”

“Bait? For what?” Q whispered to Bond but the man only made a gesture showing they should be quiet.

“It was simple,” Yousef still talked, taking out his own gun. Q could hear familiar sound of the hammer being pulled back as Yousef explained, “I wanted to use you, Bond. I wanted to use you to lure him out of that damn building and country.”

His words were cut off by the deafening sound of an explosion. Q and Bond felt the ground shaking beneath them while the air above the cliff rapidly filled with smoke and fire.

“Now,” Bond and Yousef said simultaneously; Bond to Q and Yousef to his guard.

His shooter didn’t have much of a chance. Bond was much faster. Q saw the guard’s body collapse in the road. The whole road was illuminated by the red light of the fire, and Q ran for Yousef’s car. When he reached it, he saw that Bond was standing in front of Yousef with his gun raised, but even Q could see how badly it was shaking. Bond had blood all over his right arm, now lifted up and waiting to take another shot while Yousef just stood there.

“You’re like Teflon. Nothing quite sticks to you, does it?” Yousef said with amusement, “Where is he?”

“Not here, I’m afraid,” Bond responded, trying to sound carefree.

But Q knew that tone. He heard it too many times when they worked together. It was the tone that Bond used to mask everything, every feeling, all emotion, all the pain.  The lighter and more cavalier he sounded, the bigger was Bond’s actual concern. Fuck, now it only could mean that Bond wouldn’t last for long.

Q bent down, crouching close to one side of the car’s body. He felt the heat of the fire as he moved very slowly to the driver’s door. Bond saw him as their eyes met for a brief second of understanding.

“Tell me where he is and I’ll let you go,” Yousef said suddenly, looking quickly in the direction that pulled Bond’s attention. “How many bullets do you have? Are you fast enough to kill me?”

Q stopped breathing completely. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he thought Yousef could hear it. Slowly… Very slowly he reached for the handle, closing his hand around it and waiting for the right moment to open the door.

“I’m not making arrangements with men who aren’t even able to act like gentlemen,” Bond said dryly, suddenly shooting.

Q pulled the handle when the shooting started, opening car’s door. He slipped into the driver seat, reaching for the keys with shaking hands.

“Next time I’m not going to miss,” Bond said, stepping from the cover of the motor bike and leaning against it. “Why do you need Aden?”

Q saw Bond lower the gun slightly, still shaking. His face was smooth but in the red glow he could see that Bond was in pain but he still kept the gun trained on his target.

“To many questions,” Yousef said and then held his gun up, ready to fire.

But before he could get off a shot, Q started the engine. The noise was enough to distract Yousef long enough for Q to change gears and hit the gas. Yousef didn’t have time to react before the car had hit him. The man bashed into the windshield, when a sudden bullet burst through his shoulder, knocking him onto the glass. A blood started seeping around the broken glass, coloring it a deep crimson..

“Oh God,” Q mumbled, breathing hard and quickly, not able to pull his eyes from the body next to him. “Oh God, I killed him.”

He watched as Bond dragged Yousef down, throwing him on the pavement. Q couldn’t suppress a shiver. The idea that he was the direct cause of someone’s death, paralyzed him for a moment. Seeing it on his screens, when someone else was pulling the trigger was so much easier, almost like a movie. Now, he felt everything, the heat from the fire, the stench of burning corps and gasoline, the smell of blood mixed with fumes. It was overwhelming. He wanted to take a breath but he couldn’t. He just wanted to inhale but there was something that blocking his throat, he couldn’t catch his breath, he just wanted air, just ai-

“Q, just go” he heard Bond’s voice near him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I killed him,” Q murmured, slowly looking away from the blood and looking over at Bond.

“No, you didn’t,” Bond replied. He shook his head. His voice was calm and relaxed, but his face was covered in blood. “I killed him. You’re safe.”

Q felt a warm hand covered his own that was still clenched around the gearbox. Bond’s fingers were sticky from the dirt and blood as he began to shift into gear. Q followed the movement automatically, without thinking. Thinking was too dangerous now, there was too much to think about. Now, he had to get them out of here. After that he could think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeeey! I came back home safe and sound! :) 
> 
> I hope waiting wasn't **that** bad and this chapter made up for all that anticipation :)
> 
> And OMG - thank you SOOOO much for all that amazing kudos and comments! I mean, whoaaah - 30 in 5 days? Howww? Hooow? I've never dreamed of such attention! Thank you my Babies!


	11. Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so soooooo sorry that it took ages to update the story. Like I wrote before - I have it already written down, I just waited for my betas to finish working on it but then exams have started and everything got extended.
> 
> This part (and all later) is bated by an amazing and courageous girl - Jessica who also bravely edits articles for our blog. So again - a massive thank you, my guarding angel!
> 
> Have a good read you all!

The car pulled over, stopping in front of a massive, iron gate. Their intricate details were barely visible in a faint light of dusk. Morning was growing slowly over the lake, giving just some dimmed reflections of the sun above the mountains. Streets were still asleep, immersed with darkness. The air getting inside the car was impossibly fresh, icy and sharp, but still drenched with the smell of forest. There was a vast garden separating the house from road. Bond saw the building only through gaps in the gate and between bindweed leaves. In the darkness it was hard to tell about its size or style.

“There’s someone who keeps an eye on it,” Q whispered, his eyes were also glooming over the house judgmentally. “I’ll talk to them later, but I’m sure they’d know we aren’t burglars. Everything is protected by my security system and only few know the changeable code.”

“If you trust them, then so will I,” Bond said with his voice husky, dropping his head on the headrest. 

Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly. The pain was hard to ignore even after the pile of painkillers he shoved down his throat. He heard that Q got off the car, probably to open the gate. He was silent for the most of the journey, speaking out only when there was an urgent need. Bond didn’t know if he was frightened, still in some kind of strange shock or maybe he didn’t want to bother him with talking. Hell, talking was a fucking nightmare. Every breath had cost him unbelievable pain but he was determined to pay it if that meant Q would feel better after everything that happened. Instead Q was focused on driving, his hands were clenched tightly on the wheel to the point where his knuckles were white. He was pale, his lips red, bitten constantly and nervously.

They changed cars after a few more miles, reaching some small village in the mountains. They set the old one on fire, destroying evidence and any possibility of GPRS tracking. When the chaos roused after the car exploded with unexpected power, they took their chances, stealing some old Audi. Maybe it wasn’t fast but it was safer without the security and tracking systems installed in new cars. In addition, they got a generously equipped first aid kit. Bond still needed some serious stitching and bandaging but it was just alright for the time being. They had to use the night and get somewhere safe and somewhere quiet.

Somewhere safe and quiet happened to be a summer house of Q’s parents – situated in a small town, Salo, just on the side of Garda Lake. It was surrounded by the inscrutable garden, forgotten and unused. Just perfect. Q proposed it when they passed Italian border. Knowing they barely had some money left, thus having limited possibilities, Bond agreed without hesitation. They were still on the run, but this time they didn’t even know what they were running from. They killed Yousef, no doubts about it, Bond thought. But there was something else. No, someone else, he corrected himself. Someone wanted Q. Someone powerful and with connections. Bond had to protect him and …

Q leaped in the driver’s seat, pulling him back from slipping into a dangerous zone – a strange unconsciousness. Bond opened his eyes, blinking and trying to sit straight.

“Just hold on a moment,” Q assured him, checking Bond’s forehead again. “It’s good that you don’t have a fever.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Bond wanted to snort but instead he started to cough, curling with pain.

“I’m just taking care of you,” Q sighed but took his hand off and started the engine nervously. “At least I can do that,” he added quietly, slowly driving the gravel road up to the house’s back entry.

“You saved me, Q” Bond said gently. 

“Not enough,” the young man breathed out before getting out of the car.

The agent observed silently as Q’s quick fingers run on the small keypad, pressing complicated pattern of numbers in remarkable speed. The wooden door opened for them with surprising ease, reveling a huge space of a modern house in a dimmed, intimate glow of automatically adjusted light. He could see the vast living space with a fireplace on one wall and a line of huge windows, opened for the garden’s view, on the other. Everything seemed to be warm, inviting and comfortable even when covered by endless amount of white sheets. Q already started to uncover them, first from the fluffy sofa, then from bookshelves and other furniture.

“I’ll make tea, maybe …” Q started, folding sheets closely to his chest and standing in the middle of the room with his eyes glooming everywhere but Bond’s face. “That’s if there would be any. But there should be some. Anna must have left something and - You’d find toothbrushes and soap in the cupboards of main bathroom, next to the kitchen, the same for towels … Oh, and I wouldn’t have clean clothes for you, I’m afraid, but there are robes for guests,” he murmured confused, poking on the wardrobe door behind him.

“Q, are you all -” Bond started, but as words left his lips he realized how stupid that question must sound right now. “I’ll help you with the tea,” he moved but Q stopped him.

“No, don’t be ridiculous.” One of Q’s forced smiles formed on his face. “I’ll make tea and then I’ll look at your shoulder. Stay here or take a shower if you want or … just use the sofa,” Q finished uncomfortably, leaving room so fast that Bond didn’t even have a chance to protest.

He walked slowly to the windows, checking the outside out of habit more than fear. They still should destroy the car and contact MI6 at some point but this house was a good place, he assured himself as he touched the cold glass with his good hand. The sun slowly brightened the sky, coming higher and from behind mountains, showing the real beauty of the house and garden. From this point, during the day, they would be able to see the lake and the road. The town center was not far, but still a distance that there was no risk they would be spotted by locals quickly.

He pressed his forehead to the surface, savoring the sensation and coldness that slowly spread in his body. He was still in pain, but the tension in his muscles was gently easing out. He was in a safe place, he repeated thoughtfully as he slowly started to relax, listening to the complete silence that calmly enveloped the house.

Silence … It was strange after everything what they had lived through that night, he thought with concern. He didn’t hear Q’s movements, even a bit of his steps, nothing. He turned back just in time when suddenly there was a grotesque sound of breaking glass coming from the kitchen.

“Fuck!” Q cursed loud with well heard anger. “Fuck this,” Bond heard and then another glass hit something.

He ran to the kitchen. His heart almost stopped with fear, ignoring the pain. More things hit the floor, he heard millions of pieces of glass smash on some surface with a characteristic sound. Being prepared for someone storming inside, he burst into the kitchen ready to fight but instead he found Q throwing one more cup into the sink. Coming from behind, he wrapped his arms tightly around the slender waist, blocking Q’s hands and catching him in a half move.

“Leave me alone!” Q demanded, wanting to tear from his arms. “Just let me do something on my own!”

“Q, listen … Just, please,” Bond struggled for a moment, discovering one more time that the man was far stronger then he looked. 

He took the cup from his hand, settling it safely back on the counter when Q turn in his arms, pushing him away. 

“Aden, I’m here for you,” he said finally, bringing Q even closer and tighter to his chest. 

Q suddenly stopped, looking up with surprise. He studied Bond’s face for a long moment as tears slowly filled up his eyes. He lowered his head, pressing into Bond’s chest, watering his sweater with tears. 

“I fucked up everything. I killed him. I can’t even … I can’t even do fucking tea without destroying something.”

“You saved my life,” Bond repeated stubbornly, feeling Q’s not approving shake of his head.

As he watched how Q’s hands were clenched into his sweater – his face pressed firmly into the wool, how Q tried to hide in his arms and how he craved for his closeness – Bond couldn’t hold his feelings. Not anymore, not like that. Not when his own heart was stopping at every move Q made. So afraid that Q might be destroyed by everything what had happened. He had in his arms everything. It was everything what Bond cared about right now. Everything what he wanted to protect. 

“I killed him,” Bond said every word very slowly. “I shot him straight in the heart. I killed him. This is not your fault,” he added with certainty, losing his grip on Q but not letting him go. 

He closed his arms gently on other man’s back, rubbing them in comforting circles. He even let himself run his fingers through that mess of dark hair, hiding his own face in it with a shushing murmur.

“I shouldn’t pity him but I do,” Q huffed. His back shook with another wave of emotions, tearing from his lips a loud cry. “I shouldn’t …” 

Bond felt as Q’s body trembled, his legs were giving up so instead of forcing Q to stand up and move, he slowly found himself following Q onto the floor.

“I fucked up everything from the beginning,” Q said, holding into Bond’s body. “It started with Silva – all my mistakes, everything. I’m just useless. I can’t – I can’t like you … I can’t be like you.”

Bond moved hands gently on Q’s back, maneuvering the man comfortably in his arms and between his thighs. His voice was rough but he managed to sound delicately, “You’re just a human Aden. You’re not your computer. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

“But I should know better,” Q breathed out heavily, his crying slowly appease but Q burned his face even deeper, ashamed to look at Bond. “I should check. Everything. I should learn my lesson and check Egypt, and settle the connection better and find more secure lines and see that there was something not right and the girl … I should know her,” Q caught a deep breath again, gasping with it as he added, trembling in between James’ hand even more. “Everything that happened to you – it’s my fault. You were nearly dead because of me and this, this everything …”

“Aden,” Bond said more firmly now, suddenly taking Q’s chin into his fingers and forcing him to look up, “You’ve managed to save my life an uncountable amount of times as my handler and the Quartermaster. Somehow you became the reason why I even wanted to work in the first place.”

“I-I wha-wait… Why?” Q mumbled, looking at Bond with full astonishment.

“After what happened at Sky …” Bond tried to pronounce that name, closing his eyes for a moment to push memories aside when finally he said slowly, “After M’s death I had no one and then I came back … and you were there, young and bright and so brilliant. With all your intelligence and passion for work, you teased me and provoke me, giving me a reason to wake up every day. So you got one thing quite well after all,” he added, smiling faintly.

“You just want to say I’m a good handler,” Q tried to make sure, still serious.

“At work you already are,” Bond held his voice meaningfully, “But you can be an even better one outside work hours with my other equipment. Let’s say –”

“Bond,” Q warned him, pushing him off lightly but his voice carried this far and almost forgotten shade of smile. It faded away quickly when Q realized he was touching Bond’s wounded shoulder. “Oh God, I’m so sorry … I’ll find something to –” 

“Leave it for now,” Bond stooped Q, holding him from standing up. “Sleep is what we need the most right now.”

“No, let me help first,” Q said with a tone that meant the subject was out of discussion and then he added more gently, “That’s if you want me to.”

“It would be a pleasure, Q,” Bond gave him an assuring look.

The young man only nodded with a shy smile, stretching to reach to the shelf next to Bond. The agent sighed tiredly, resting his head on the cupboard’s door behind him. He observed as Q struggled to take out a huge case marked with a red cross and looking like it would weigh a ton.

Bond arched an eyebrow at that, snorting, “Impressive.”

“Me and Vesper,” Q started, looking up from the case at the agent to check his reaction, “We were very persistent at getting hurt every time we manage to sneak out. There was this one time, our last holidays here, when my parents were still alive … Vesper had a boyfriend who drove Ducati and we ended up in a motorbike accident,” Q stopped suddenly, closing his fingers on scissors when memories took over him for a moment. “I hated hospitals, so my mom had to stitch me. She was a surgeon.”

“Does it mean I’m in good hands?” Bond said, moving around to help Q get rid of his sweater.

“We’d have to count on my hidden talents,” the young man caught the fabric on Bond’s torso, taking it off of him with extreme gentleness. “I only had extensive first aid training when I got to MI6.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Bond breathed a weak laugh, trying to free his beaten arm from the sweater’s sleeve.

“Slowly,” Q instructed him, cutting the wool in more pieces. He threw parts stained with blood on the floor, delicately touching Bond’s skin. “It looks terrible.”

“Thank you BBC,” Bond smirked, turning back so Q could have a better view and access to the whole wound. “Now maybe some forecast?”

“You’d live, that’s given,” Q answered with a smile hidden in his tone, but he was still tensed and focused. “The skin is not only awfully bruised, but it broke in some places. I’d have to stitch it. Do you want some anesthesia for that?”

“Do you have any there?” Bond shot him an interested look over the shoulder.

“Well, nothing except whiskey,” Q shrugged, moving his soft touch up James’ arm, to the nape of his neck while exanimating the cut on his temple.

“Your mother had strange methods,” Bond noticed, trying to focus more on the delicate fingertips running on his skin than on the pain. He closed his eyes, unable to hold a pleasant murmur which snuck into his voice when he spoke again. “Was she pouring you alcohol so you wouldn’t scream as she stitched your sorry ass?”

“Back then whiskey was hardly doing any harm to me,” Q smiled sadly, taking a swab from the kit and drenching it with peroxide to press onto Bond’s forehead.

“Ouch,” Bond wince, giving Q disapproving look but softened with a sly smile, “Careful.”

“Come on, you lived through worse,” Q reprimanded him but the next brush was more gentle.

“So what could do harm to you?” Bond asked, holding on Q’s last words as the man moved to his back again to clean the wound there. 

“Cocaine, LSD, ecstasy,” Q listed, stopping his movements and waiting for Bond’s reaction. When the agent showed none except maybe a curious, quick look, he added, “Let’s say that being a young genius makes you start your youth experiments much earlier and with more intensity. I wanted to try everything and then my parents died and this was the only way out.”

“And Vesper helped you to stop it?” Bond deducted.

“She took me in and she was with me for the whole time,” Q explained quietly, ”When I thought that I had nothing to live for, she bought me my first, serious computer and helped me to apply for the university.”

“Q, it’s what happened before,” Bond pulled his attention, turning back to be able to catch Q’s hand. 

He took it gently, looking at the fingerprints, these little lines of Q’s past marking him permanently. Before Bond could think about his next move, he was already kissing softly the inside of Q’s palm. It smelled like peroxide, tasted salty with sweat, and metallic with his own blood. 

He felt that Q shivered under his touch but he didn’t take his hand away, slowly relaxing. He only exhaled a long breath, moving even closer and giving to his touch. Feeling this silent permission Bond moved his lips further on Q’s wrist, tracing lines of his trembling tendons.

“I avenged her,” Q said suddenly, his tone was flat and unemotional, “But it doesn’t feel good.”

Bond looked up, kissing Q’s wrist for the last time and then leveled with him. “A death of another person is not a good thing nor is it satisfying.”

“Do you feel sorry for them then?” Q asked, his was attention back on Bond’s shoulder.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” Bond shook his head, settling more comfortable on the floor. He pressed his forehead to the cold surface of the cupboard, bearing his back for whatever Q prepared for him. “I don’t feel guilty as I’m not responsible for their choices. I just do my job.”

“Can you teach me that?”

“No,” Bond said firmly, looking quickly over the shoulder. “It’s good that you feel sorry for them, Q. It’s what keeps your humanity.”

“And you? What about you?” Q drew his eyebrows with concern. “Don’t you have any humanity left?”

Bond hesitated. “No,” he whispered, facing the cupboard again as he added even quieter, “And yes, when I’m with you.” 

Q’s slow breath reached the nape of Bond’s neck, his fingers run on his shoulder as the agent felt first sting of the needle.

“When we wake up I need to find some computer and try to relocate that girl,” Q added, slowly working on his shoulder, his voice sounded low somewhere near Bond’s ear. “Maybe if I find her I’d be able to get to the people who are behind this.”

“When we wake up,” Bond pointed out, trying to sound serious when an unpleasant shiver run on his back. “Now focus on the job. I don’t want to have crooked scars.”

“Your wish is my command, 007,” Q whispered, blowing on James’ skin a cold breath to ease the pain.  


	12. Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beted by amazing Jess (thank you :***)

Q woke up like he were to break the surface of icy water. He inhaled deeply and then breathed out the air slowly, opening his eyes immediately but still not seeing a thing. The room was dark, barely visible in the light of a fireplace dying down in front of him. He couldn’t match this view to the things he felt just seconds ago, being trapped under the cold water. He dreamed about drowning, about running from someone and about choking with his own breath when the liquid around him changed into thicker, darker, tasting like blood. And it wasn’t a nightmare … he didn’t have nightmares. It was this kind of dream – it felt so real that he was accepting it, living in it like in real life. He woke up in the most unexpected moment, unable to accept the reality. 

He just lay there scared because everything around him seemed more like a dream than the place he was before. The fireplace vibrated soothing warmth, filling up his lungs with calming aroma of oak tree. When he moved just slightly to look around, he felt strong body adjusting on his side. A massive arm curled around his waist tighter, bringing him closer to the center of the heat. He felt a hot breath on the nape of his neck suddenly followed by a rough sensation when an unshaven cheek rubbed into his skin. Then he realized where he was. The place slowly emerged from the darkness in tiny streams of light coming from shuttered windows in the same way as his memories slowly came back to him.

He remembered the girl’s eyes, the whole drive on the motorbike, the car slipping on the road and falling from the cliff … And then he remembered Yousef’s face just before he hit him. Q knew that this memory would wake him up every day for at least couple of months. Probably it would be with him till the end, unable to erase just like the expression of Vesper’s face he saw for the last time at the airport.

His eyes suddenly became heavy again as he started to fall into the sleep with all memories from yesterday. His brain would reproduce it with another complicated, realistic dream and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to wake up anymore. He felt light and strangely heavy at the same time, slowly going back to the unconsciousness when suddenly he heard a rough murmur. It resounded in his whole body, coming from behind and playing low in the man’s chest pressed firmly to his back. Q flinched, waking up again.

He realized only now that Bond held him tight; his face buried in Q’s hair, his good arm wrapped around him possessively and his warm hand pressed flat to his chest, just above his heart. For a moment the astonishment made him all tensed and alerted but as the understanding slowly filled up his mind, he let it all go and relaxed.

He was so tired, so drenched when he finally finished putting Bond back together that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa. He sat there only for a moment when Bond was taking a shower to find himself couple of hours later, wrapped in Bond’s arms and legs, lying on the mattress in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t help it and just smiled. Everything about this man was so unpredictable, so unrealistic and yet so possible … With James, he was possible. And he loved this. He loved Bond. He realized that just now when the culminations of all these days hit him with full force. He understood that he hadn’t killed Yousef to avenge his sister. He did it for Bond, to protect him. He did it without hesitation, without thinking of consequences, completely unselfishly and honestly. 

Laying there, he meaninglessly traced lines on Bond’s arm, less afraid to touch him when the man was asleep. He felt the man’s slow pulse, rushing blood. Bond, as always, craved closeness. Maybe the agent wanted to soothe Q with it too … but there were so many questions that still had the power to stop Q from taking it. Q’s head was exploding from all of them. He couldn’t comprehend, he couldn’t focus on one and he wasn’t able to find resolution. It was too much. Computers, machines, guns were simpler. Humans. This was what he wasn’t good at. He wasn’t good at handling emotions, other people and his life. 

“Why are you not sleeping?” Q heard suddenly a low murmur, “You think too much.”

Q turned carefully on his side, facing Bond. “How can you tell?”

“You’re biting your lips,” the man said with a lazy smile. 

“Like Ana Steel from ’50 shades of Grey’?” Q chuckled.

Bond shook his head with disapproval, giving him a doubtful look. “Aren’t you too young to read books like that?”

“Aren’t you too old to know about them?” Q mocked him, taking the duvet under his cheek and curling up beside Bond.

“Eve made me read it,” the man said, wincing probably at the unpleasant memory. “She said that it would improve my skills.”

Q laughed out loud this time, hiding his face into pillow to mute the sound. “And? Did it help?” he murmured. 

“Not even remotely,” Bond snorted, moving closer. A sly smile spread on his lips as he found Q’s ear again. “It’s not my style.”

“I’d ask what your style is, but then you probably would like to show me,” Q guessed.

“Well you have me there,” Bond smirked, reaching to bring Q closer.

The gesture was simple, maybe even without much meaning as they slept like that for a good couple of hours, but Q moved away anyway, suddenly abashed. 

“I should find you some clothes,” he said, keeping his tone calm but drained from emotions. 

He sat on the mattress, his naked skin covered immediately with goose-bumps with the lack of Bond’s warmth, the incredibly pleasing radiation of his strong body. He wanted to stay under those sheets, with this man forever. Really … he wouldn’t ask for anything more. But admitting to himself how he felt about Bond was one, innocent thing, when actually showing this man that he fell for him hard and completely, was another. 

He was sure that if they’d start here, there would be no ending from his side till this feeling would destroy him. Because maybe he could wait for Bond – maybe he cared for him and craved for his touch, but that doesn’t meant Bond would change and suddenly become a different person who would give him something in return. Very likely, Bond was treating him like a poor substitute, like a shadow of Vesper. And how long Q would be able to play that part in the agent’s life? One month? Maybe two … and then what? Then Q would end up with his heart torn to shreds and have to face a person he loved but cannot touch anymore, seeing it every day at work.

He ruffled his hair, shaking the feeling off and still trying to wake up. He tried to stand up, untangling form the sheets. Bond observed him silently, resting on his good arm, spread comfortable on the mattress with the full exposure of his perfect, muscular body that tempted Q to just lay down, lean for it, kiss and lick it endlessly till he would be full of Bond’s taste. 

Instead he only bit his lips, trying to hide how he felt. As he realized that Bond’s eyes followed his every move with an honest, happy smile, he quickly stopped it. Bond’s face changed for a fraction of second with mixture of surprise and disappointment. Or maybe Q just imagined it because when the man spoke again, his voice was back to the playful tone. 

“I’d rather enjoy seeing you in this appearance all the time,” he murmured, giving Q’s body another careful look, “But I’d be highly unhappy to share it with the world.”

“I presume you did this on purpose? Undress me? When I was asleep and unarmed?” Q snorted, dragging his t-shirt form under the pillow and showing it deliberately to Bond. “That’s low even for you.”

“You should put a note on your forehead then,” Bond started write in the air with his finger, with a serious face but his voice changed to higher one, “Dear James, leave me alone, I want to have cramps in my back and bruises on my ars from sleeping in jeans on a tiny sofa.” 

 “I do not sound like that!” Q suddenly outraged.

He snatched a pillow from the floor and threw it at Bond. The man was faster though. He not only caught it but moved surprisingly fast to grasp Q, pulling him in and trapping him under his body with one, smooth motion.

“Never start a pillow fight with a trained killer,” he growled into Q’s ear. 

“Or what?” Q challenged him, pretending he was struggling to escape.

“Let’s see,” Bond murmured with a cunning smile. His hands trailed sides of Q’s body, wrapping around his waist and settling somewhere on his lower back. “You’re shaking,” he added, looking at Q with a smile.

 “Bond,” Q warned him this time, pushing him off of him for real.

But Bond only leaned further, hiding his face in Q’s hair, breathing out slowly and warming his skin with long exhales. Q’s treacherous body shivered, responding immediately, arching in the man’s arm to get as close as it could to the center of luring heat and touch. 

“Why are you suddenly so afraid of me?” Bond whispered, pulling away to look into Q’s eyes with carefulness, like he was waiting for something more than just this answer.

“I’m not afraid,” Q reacted fast and then felt trapped with his own emotions. “I just … I just don’t think it’s utterly good idea. I think —”

“I said you think too much,” Bond interrupted him and lean closer, nuzzling his cheek unexpectedly gentle.

Bond’s lips were an inch from him, easy to reach and inviting. He had to only move his chin and then he would feel and taste of Bond again. The man’s hands moved lower, his fingertips pressed into the skin of his hips, drawing him close. 

Q wanted to forget about the world outside. About what he did during this night, about what he was … He didn’t want to be Vesper’s brother anymore just to be with this man. Vesper … He thought suddenly. Did Bond persuade Vesper in the same way? Did he touch her in the same places? Did Bond think of her now, comparing them?

Q didn’t want to be compared. He would lose with her. He was always losing with her. He didn’t want to be her replacement. He didn’t want to be her shadow.

“No,” he said aloud, pushing Bond away more firmly. “I’m not like you. I can’t do this like that.”

“Like what?” Bond sat up taken aback, letting Q to crawl from under him. But when Q ignored him, he pulled him by the wrist once more, demanding an answer, “Like what, Q?”

“Without feelings,” Q hissed, tearing his hand from Bond’s grip. “I’m not here to sustain your craving for a quick fuck after your usual adrenaline high.”  

The man looked shocked when Q stood up, collecting the rest of his clothes from the floor. He tried to convince himself really hard that he didn’t care what Bond felt or thought when he ran upstairs, saying only quiet, “Don’t come after me.”


	13. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beted by one and only - Jessy! :D For all of you as a little gift for 6th of December because in Poland we have a really special day :D

Bond stayed still for a moment longer, meaninglessly watching the last dancing flames of a dying fire. He got up when the fireplace finished off completely, moving on some kind of autopilot – pulling off curtains, checking the time, peeing and taking a shower.

It was only a couple of minutes past four. The sun took over the lake’s surface and reflected to bring more light to the house and the garden. The sunlight filled up the bathroom as well, invading the space through a Venetian window. Now he recognized surroundings, the small city spreading in the valley and onto the lake shore. He had been here after Montenegro, in the hospital on the other side of the town. It was here where Vesper said she belong to him. He realized that with a bit of sentiment, but without stronger emotions. This was the past to him while his present was upstairs. He heard Q’s quiet movements, the floor cracked under the young man’s light steps. He tried to ignore it, tried not to think that Q was so close and yet so out of reach. 

Resting hands and his forehead on the wall of the shower, he let the water wash his back in steady but calming waves. He stood under the stream, not paying much attention that his shoulder hurt like hell, too occupied by the feeling of failure. 

After Vesper’s death he had a great excuse. It was easy to shut down, not trust anyone, and protect himself by being just a cold-hearted bastard, like she perfectly described him. For past years he was just a machine – a blunt instrument that was burning out little by little. Even if M saw a human in him and she was able to ground him, he stopped to feel a damn thing anyway over time. Everything around was the same – every day was no different from another, faces melt together into one nightmare. The body count was the only changeable number. 

So when did he become that old, pathetic prick who spent more time on thinking how to get into someone’s pants than actually doing it? Ah, it probably happened at the same time when it all became more like a fight for someone’s soul than just the ass. And yes, he wanted to be with that someone. He wanted to have some kind of a life. It wouldn’t be even remotely close to a normal, typical life of others people, but he wanted to share it with Q. Why? Because when he slept with Q closed safely in his arms, he felt. With Q he was his old self – young, ambitious and brave enough to love.  

Fuck, he really did become old, he snorted at his mirror reflection. Small wrinkles spread around his eyes in a tiny net when he smiled. The bruise from the explosion, on the side of his forehead, disappeared almost completely and the cut on his temple wasn’t that bad now that he cleaned up. Only his arm and shoulder looked like a disaster, all red with petechiae and marked with a pattern of twenty-one perfect stitches. He slowly felt the pain crawl back under his skin, his body begged him for another dose of analgesic. And maybe he could do an injection by himself, but why he would strain himself if he had his Quartermaster only feet away?

He snatched fresh bandages and a syringe from the kit in the kitchen, running upstairs with only a towel wrapped around his hips. He found Q in a room that was closed before by another lock with a code. The young man sat behind massive wood desk, bathed in light and looking focused on a laptop’s screen. 

With a mix of surprise and admiration Bond stopped at the doorsteps, watching walls plugged with shelves full of books. The room wasn’t big, but it was extremely high. The shelves covered it tight from bottom to top, only freeing the wall with another Venetian window. The sun bursting inside highlighted streams of dust playing in the air around, adding to the place this strange feeling of an old library together with a smell of leather, wood and parchment sheets. When he took a closer look, he saw that not only books took the space on the shelves, but there was a lot of small things – trinkets, little and artistic baubles with variety from Star Wars figures and some old pieces of technology passing to Doctor Who Daleks or beautifully carved chess pawns. 

“I never thought your work room would look like that,” Bond admitted, leaning against Q’s desk.

“Maybe it’s because you’ve put more attention to my ass than my personality, 007?” Q said not bothering to look at him. 

“Oh, I get it, we’re back to the titles phase,” Bond nodded with understanding, ignoring Q’s sarcasm. “Hardly possible on that stage of our acquaintance, I would say.”

Q didn’t stop typing and tried to ignore him. At least just for a moment. His finger froze over the keyboard, eyes hidden behind glasses followed a line of the code with dissatisfaction drawn all over his beautiful face, when Bond stood there patiently, observing him with a profound interest.

“Bugger,” Q cursed under his breath, biting his lips and suddenly looked at the agent. “Which part of ‘don’t go after me’ didn’t you understand, Bond?”

“That’s better,” Bond smiled charmingly, passing him over the syringe. “Would you do the honor?” 

Q sighed, giving the man a doubtful look but standing up anyway. He wasn’t careful when he folded back the towel on Bonds lower back and stabbed him, still holding man’s gaze.

“Ouch, you could be gentler,” Bond said with affectionately low voice.

“You don’t deserve my mercy,” Q answered him with the same tone, face still serious. 

Bond didn’t try to stop Q this time when he sat back in the chair. But after a moment interrupted only by Q’s typing, he asked with a light tone, “Why do you think it's so bad that I want you?”

“You were in love with my sister before,” Q said without hesitation, giving him a quick and checking look.

“Right,” Bond nodded again, focusing on the pattern on the floor when he smiled suddenly to himself, pleased by the result of his little interrogation. “That could complicate things, you’re right.”

Q’s eyebrows arched with astonishment and he frowned with confusion when he went back to gaze at Bond. “You’re acting strange.”

“Post operational stress,” the man explained with a shrug, poking his chin on the laptop. “Where’d you get that from?”

Q shook his head, probably not buying the given excuse, but he didn’t insist on more explanations. Instead he went back to his laptop with a smile and tender pat on the used computer’s lead.

“It’s my first creation,” he said quietly, “It served me till I finished my teases, but then I couldn’t upgrade it any more in this form so I put it on storage here. My set up at Q-Branch is very similar only more modern.”

“Is it your own operational system?” Bond asked with praise well heard in his voice.

“Yes, one of my first versions,” Q smiled shyly and his eyes lit up when he explained, “It lacks many prongs that I created recently for MI6 usage, so I wasn’t able to do a lot but I managed to clean up any crumbles we might have left last night.”

“Thank you,” Bond said simply, not turning his careful gaze from the young man. “I’ve never told you this, have I?”

Q sat back in his chair, adjusting his glasses on his nose’s bridge when the frown deepened on his forehead. “You might’ve hit your head harder than I thought, or the analgesic has a worse effect on you than I suspected.”

The agent burst out laughing, his rough voice resounding in the quiet room. Q watched him with growing surprise, smirking to himself. Bond saw as the young man’s whole frame relax finally, sinking into the chair. God, he was so beautiful when amusement played in his eyes and filled up with the sun. He looked much younger and somehow carefree with a mess of raven hair, smile on his red and full lips, inviting and tempting. Bond had to hold himself in a tight grip to not lean and pin them with a kiss. 

Instead he pulled a chair, sitting next to Q. “You know there is one question that bothers me a lot,” he started, poking on the computer screen that showed photo of the girl. “What do they want from you?”

Q sized him up quickly, holding his gaze on Bond’s towel still tightly tangling at his hips. “It would be so much more interesting if you’d come to Q-Branch dressed like that. And yes, I’m wondering the same thing all the time, but if they recruited her,” he poked his chin on the photo. “Then it’s very highly possible I’m also a precious asset for them.”

“Of course you are,” Bond murmured as he looked at Q from under half closed eyes, scrutinizing him slowly, “Also would you like me to flaunt myself in the Q-Branch dressed only with a towel, showing my best attributes to everyone?”

“Ninety percent of MI6 saw your attributes after that video from Medical leaked to the intranet three months ago,” Q noticed, entering list of watchwords into newly opened command prompt window. “Anna, the same one who got flowers from you and loves her husband so much, asked if I could burn her that vid on DVD. She was fairly disappointed when I told her it is against agency regulations.”

“Maybe she wanted to spice up her marriage life?” Bond prompted. “You can’t blame me for her boredom.”

“I’m blaming you for a lack of self-esteem,” Q voiced sounded suddenly more serious. “You just can’t do whatever you want with whoever you want and think it doesn’t have an impact on other people’s lives. For you giving her those flowers while wearing that stupidly charming smile of yours was a sign she meant something more to you, so she developed an idiotic crush which almost destroyed her marriage,” Q said in one breath, dividing his attention between his speech and setting up the query, “Of course you even don’t have the slightest idea about that, don’t you? You treat people like a disposable pleasure. Not something meaningful, but something that serves your needs at that time and then it’s good for nothing the next moment.”

Bond, taken aback by Q’s sudden outburst, sat back slowly, deeply exhaling a breath that he didn’t even know he held. He wanted to say something, anything to explain himself but he knew words wouldn’t do much right now, not with Q. 

He looked on the computer’s screen, following Q’s moves and suddenly stopped young man’s hand. “Type Thiago Rodrigues and all his aliases here.” 

“Silva?” Q looked at him swiftly, “Why would you think about him?”

“I want to know if he had some connections with that Veronica.”

Bond observed as on Q’s lips slowly forms an unwanted smile. He couldn’t restrain it and finally smirked, shaking his head with disbelief. “I don’t know how I didn’t think about that earlier.” 

“That I’m brilliant?” Bond offered. 

“Sometimes you are indeed, but just think about it,” Q pointed, waving at him and then at computer, “First they wanted to kill you off in Egypt **,** and then when Yousef captured you in Cannes he took you alive and wanted to transport you somewhere. And then when the car exploded, he could have shot at us much earlier but he waited.”

“He waited for you,” Bond followed Q’s lead. “So you’re implementing that he wanted us both?”

“Precisely,” Q nodded suddenly touching Bond’s arms, smoothing his fingers on man’s biceps and tracing a small but quite fresh scar. “They wanted this.”

“My location chip?” The agent wondered, “I understand that it could be important for someone who would want to know tracking, routes and dates of my missions but what those do have to do with Yousef and Silva?”

“What was your next operation after Skyfall?” Q asked, quirking an eyebrow up at him. 

“Mallory didn’t get permission to destroy Silva’s computer so I dropped it in a secure location,” Bond said slowly as the understanding crawled to his mind. “Oh, you don’t know where that is?”

“They didn’t tell me in case it would be tempting for me one day,” Q explained. “But for the contrary I’m the one who created the protection system and a password that opens the data gathered on it.”

“So they need me to know where it is and they need you to open it,” Bond added, putting their story together. “And Veronica would navigate the content?”

“Yes, very likely. They also needed you to lure me out of MI6. They knew I would go after Yousef if I’d find out who he was and how he was connected to us,” Q said, noticing only now that his hand still held onto Bond’s arm tightly. He took it away quickly, turning his gaze to the computer and added quietly, “But who are they? Who is behind it?”

“Someone who knows a lot about us,” Bond pointed out and poked the girls photo on the screen. “And whoever it is, she’ll help us find out. Can you find her?”

Q sighed, smiling wryly, “I’d have to upgrade this computer and for that I need some money, but I think we shouldn’t use any of our accounts or aliases since they might be tracked.”

“I’ll call Mallory,” Bond offered, ready to stand up but Q held him in place.

“When we have something specific,” he started. “I think I know where to find resources.”

“I do like quick and easy money, but I’m not sure if we should go for robbing a bank,” Bond smirked and suddenly winced when his stomach sounded, reminding them they hadn’t eaten for at least twenty-four hours.

“I think you’d find my idea very appealing,” Q admitted and smiled with satisfaction. “And don’t think even for a moment that I wouldn’t tell everyone at MI6 how James Bond couldn’t last for long without food.”

“You’re a little shit sometimes,” Bond snorted, aiming for the door. “Know that if you’d tell anyone, you wouldn’t get away from this without repercussions.”

“Promises, promises,” Q called after him. “Go and find some clothes in the next room or my aunt is going to harass your naked ass.”

 


	14. Amarone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's all thank to **amazing** Jess for doing a beta over this part and all the later :D

Bond was lucky enough to be the same size as Q’s uncle, whose old clothes still hung in one of the closets. Tight jeans and a worn out, leather jacket must have suited him well because when he met Q in the hall, the young man barely keep his eyes above Bond’s waist, focused on the ripped hole on the back of his trousers.

“Aren’t they maybe too tight?” Q asked, handing him over his old shoes from storage. “I’m sure he used them for gardening.”

Bond scrutinized the sneakers but put them on anyway for the lack of any better choice. He smirked, opening the door for Q, “I thought you might appreciate them.”

“Me and the whole town,” Q agreed with a bitter voice, hiding deeper in his sweater.

The black wool blend with his hair, contrasted with his soft and alabaster skin, cheeks red from the sudden coldness outside. Q must feel the freezing wind because he stretched the sleeves, hiding his hands in it. He wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to get some warmth. Even from the distance Bond saw that Q was shaking.

“Have it for now,” he said, suddenly taking off his jacket and trapping Q in it. 

“It’s okay, really,” Q wanted to protest, but Bond held his arms around him so the young man melted in the jacket, giving delighted murmur when he admitted, “Although at this time of the year evenings are still pretty cold here.”

“I know,” Bond hummed to his ear and then pulled him over to get to their old car. “So what are we going to do with this one?”

“You’ll see,” Q smiled mysteriously, pressing a combination of numbers on a small remote controller.

A garaged door that Bond hadn’t seen before that was hidden behind a massive wall of woodbine, now came to life with blue light bursting from behind them as the iron shutter slowly rolled up. The entire, insanely big space was filled up with more light that revealed stunning Aston Martin Vanquished parked in the middle.

“Bloody hell, Q?” 

Bond looking from the car and on the young man, knowing that his face not only showed honest astonishment, but pure enchantment.

“If you could see the look on your face right now,” Q almost laughed out loud, leaning to his window. “It’s my father’s. He was a brilliant engineer working for Aston and my first teacher. This is his last creation in which I was involved pretty intensively.”

“Do you want to tell me that you were responsible for all my cars since you started to work for MI6?” Bond grinned like a madman. “Because if yes, I swear to God, I’d never let you leave me.”

Q’s smile faint into shy expression as he run his hand through his hair, backing from the window with something that could be recognized as really girly blush. 

“If that would make you to return them in once piece from now on,” he started with a small shrug, glooming over the car but not looking at Bond. “M assigned me to the car unit at first and I was responsible for all modernizations, but when I moved to Q-Branch permanently, I still worked on your cars.”

“Bliss, absolute bliss,” Bond said with his voice containing admiration, his eyes fixed on Q’s face.

“Wait till you drive it,” Q said, clearly trying to ignore Bond’s gaze. 

Q got to the car and pulled it out of garage, leaving space for the old Audi. Bond counted it as another brilliant idea. Destroying the car or letting it slip in to the lake left a constant fear that someone, somehow could access it. Closing the car in a highly secure garage lowered chances that someone might see it and get to it, almost to none.  

He parked on the side and covered the car with tarpaulin cover, rushing to take a place in the driver seat of the Aston.

“God, this car is better than sex,” Bond hummed, melting comfortably into the seat and closing his fingers on the wheel with another content murmur.

Q smirked, closing his belt with deliberate carefulness. “Just don’t get over excited, you won’t find any magic here but the useless adjustments like in the version from Q-Branch.”

“But there are some additions?” Bond arched an eyebrow up at Q, starting the engine.

“More convenient ones,” Q agreed, poking his chin on the red button on the wheel. “The car goes from zero to hundred in four point one seconds and it could reach three hundred and eighty kilometers per hour with a nitro addition.” 

“See, better then sex,” Bond said, laughing out laugh and pulling down the gravel road with screeching tires.

“If you want to do it quick and dirty,” Q agreed, holding tight to the handler above his head when Bond took the next turn sliding on the street.

“With that car? Definitely. But with you…” Bond whispered, taking his eyes off of road and closing his gaze on Q for a longer moment. Driving almost blindly, he added gently, “I‘d take you slow and carefully to fully enjoy the feeling.”

“Eyes on the road, Bond!” Q shouted when a truck passed them by only by centimeters.

Bond gave the young man another quick look, smiling wildly when Q just turned his head to his window, trying to hide his blushed cheeks in the collar of the leather jacket.

The rest of the rather quick ride passed more calmly as Bond enjoyed the car, testing it on the curvy roads of the coast. They parked near the main promenade when the sun started to hide behind the mountains on the other side of the lake, lighting it with a purple glow.

His little investigation of Q gave him quite interesting results. He walked next to the young man into his aunt’s restaurant, wondering how much Q was fixed up in the memory of Vesper. He found out that only his incredibly strong loyalty to his sister held Q from reaching for what he really wanted. This and maybe the fear about Bond using him like the rest of people around. 

Bond had some time to work on the solution for that. Now they reached the restaurant, one of many small Italian taverns leaning in line on the promenade. They were lively, colorful and crowded, bursting with laughs and Italian melodious language, luring people with the smell of delicious cuisine.

Q stopped him steps away from the one called ‘Diletto Mio’, giving him a careful look. “My family can be sometimes… intense,” he finished, grimacing on that word.

“They are Italian,” Bond smiled, encouraging. “Besides I like intense experiences.”

“Oh God, Anna would be so delighted with you,” Q said with more miserable tone.

“Would I?” They heard a velvety voice coming from behind. When Bond looked over Q’s shoulder he saw an elegant woman in her early sixties, smiling at them with amusement. “Aden Lynd, is that you, my long forgotten nephew who barely remembers to call me once a month?”

“I do remember,” Q said with a laugher, letting the woman to take his face in her slim hand to kiss him endlessly, leaving red lipstick marks. 

“Always working, never thinking about your own life, my darling,” she added tenderly, letting him finally free.

“Speaking of work,” Q said, waving at Bond. “This is my friend from Avectro,” he added, saying very carefully the last word.

“It’s Bond…” the agent hold out a hand. “James Bond.”

“Anna Lynd, and I bet you don’t work in IT department,” she pointed, returning a suspicious smile.

Bond laughed sonorously, shaking his head, “No, global sales.” 

“Oh, lots of traveling then, charming people with your gorgeous smile, enjoying life?” Anna assumed, poking him lightly on the cheek. “And suddenly you’re here with my nephew, wearing my husband’s sweater?”

“We have a meeting in Monte Carlo,” Q interrupted her. “We stopped on the parking near Cannes for a nap and when we woke up, we were left with nothing except the car. I thought about using the house and your help.”

“Sfacciato popolo francese,” she signed, cursing quietly. “Come then, eat something and tell me more,” she invited them to the table.

*

They occupied one of the tables outside, allowing Anna to stuff them with delicious Italian food. Even if Q felt bad for lying to her, he could never allow his work to influence the rest of his family that he had left. He told her a very cursory account about what happened to them, easily passing to more casual subjects. Chiara, his cousin, together with her husband joined them shortly after, helping Q to maintain a light character of the conversation, teasing him about his boring work and asking Bond millions of questions about his travels.

Q couldn’t stop watching Bond across the distance of the table. The man sat across him, bursting suddenly with laughs on some remark that Anna made about the way James looked in her husband clothes. Oh, he looked better, much better… Q indeed agreed, still able to see a view of Bond’s ass trapped in tight jeans every time he closed his eyes. 

But that wasn’t the only reason why Q couldn’t tear his eyes off of the man now. Q was absorbed by him because he had never seen Bond like that before. He never heard him laugh so lightly, never seen such an honest smile on his deadly handsome face or never suspected that he can be so relaxed and calm. Q could hear that sometimes Bond’s voice was maybe too carefree, like James would be stressed about something but then Q met the man’s eyes, and he understood that the only thing Bond cared about right now was to make a good impression. And he did it easily, not being too charming, not too smooth but just being only himself, being that Scot, a bit reckless and a passionate man. He complimented Anna’s dishes, but fought with her about English weather, not stepping back. He was nice to Chiara, pleasing her with a detailed answer about Middle East but didn’t flirt with her, instead he was able to cut off dry remarks from her husband with some sharp reply. And Q was just sitting there, feeling as something in his chest burst with a mix of pain and pleasure. 

Q fell for that man – for that new, but even more appealing Bond so hard and so sudden that he didn’t even realized between which blink of his eyes he stopped pretending that he wasn’t able to hold himself from looking. He wanted James. He wanted all of him, with all his perfections and imperfections. With his smiles, even the fake, charming ones, with his little wrinkles around the bluish eyes or even hands that were killing people with cold heart and without regrets. He wanted him on light, easy days like that and on the most dark ones, when James would come to him, still smelling with blood and gun powder. 

He flinched on that thought, realizing that he had been arranging a teaspoon on the top of his wine glass for a while now, ignoring the conversation.

“Are we boring you, mio caro?” Anna asked him, poking his chin lightly so she would be able to see his eyes from under tousled hair.

“No, I’m just tired and overwhelmed,” Q assured her, smiling faintly. “It just feels like in the old times.”

“I always admired that you still could be such an airhead while being a mathematical genius,” Chiara said, chuckling with amusement. Being almost an exact, blond but younger copy of her mother, she threw at him with a piece of a napkin, adding “And here I was afraid that this job is going to change you.”

“I think he should go for the same university as Vesper did,” Chiara’s husband interrupted suddenly. “There is much more future in accounting than in all this technical stuff.”

The two women swiftly moved their gazes to him with withering looks, but Bond was the one that interfered first. “There wouldn’t be any accounting if not innovations of people like Aden,” he said with a flat tone, his darkened eyes fixed on the other man. “He isn’t only insanely brilliant at what he does, but he also sacrificed his life to serve other people with his knowledge. I bet you wouldn’t be able to boast with something like that while being an accountant, doing the laundry for people who want to run from taxes, wouldn’t you?”

The man shook his head slowly, frowning at Bond clearly abashed and confused. Chiara laughed at that, ruffling her husband’s curly hair and saying, “Honey, you need more wine.”

“We all need more wine,” Anna agreed, waving at the waitress but still looking with a new interested at her nephew. 

She whispered her order to her employee, looking between Bond and Q. The young man stuck his gaze on the glass while James focused on him, following every move of his fingers, every change in his face, move of lips. 

“I will tell you a story,” Anna said, pulling Bond’s attention when the waiter put the rose wine on the table with a set of new glasses. “You probably drink Dom Perignon for breakfast but you’d be able to taste this wine only one time a year and only in this region.”

“Is it Amarone?” Bond asked with a small smile. “The meditation wine?”

“Yes! So you’ve had it?” Chiara asked with a bit of disappointment. “It’s a little pride of our house, coming from my dad’s vineyard.”

“They produced it from special grape variety that my uncle interlocked by himself,” Q explained him, handing Bond the bottle. “It’s called Anna Maria Classico after my aunt.”

“ **I** tasted it when I stayed in the hospital here,” James confirmed, remembered the label. “I was here eight years ago.”

“But we didn’t sell it when Papa had lived,” Chiara wondered, frowning her golden eyebrows. 

“Ah, but Robert sometimes was giving it to locals,” Anna finished off the discussion by grabbing the bottle from Bond’s hands and starting pour the wine into glasses. He gave Q another carful look, seeing that young man now watch James with a guilty expression, biting his lips. “Let’s drink more, talk less.”

“I’ll fold,” Chiara’s husband stood up, closing his suit jacket. “You’ll need to excuse me, but I have to go back to my meaningless accounting. Your bags and shoes won’t pay themselves, darling,” he added to his wife.

“Nonsense,” Chiara kissed him fleetingly, smiling innocently. “Your customers are giving them for free.”

“That reminds me, we got this delicious tiramisu from Angelica today.” Anna snapped her fingers at her daughter and Q. “You two, off you go for the desert.”

Q leaned to Chiara’s ear, whispering “Is it safe to leave James alone with her when he wears Robert’s clothes?”

The girl laughed, wrapping her arm around his neck to bring him closer and murmur with the same confidential tone. “Jealous of your boyfriend?”

“Really, seriously overestimated,” Q slowly explained, pointing at her finger when they maneuvered between others tables. “We only work together.”

“Mio caro,” she giggled, shaking her head when they entered the main hall of the restaurant. “If any of my colleagues at work looked at me that way, Filippo would have finally become a man and fought for me.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’d fall for them, right?” Q asked, coming behind the bar and helping Chiara to take the bowl with a dessert out of the fridge.

She shrugged, poking her chin in the direction where they left James with Anna. “If I were you, I would have fallen for his eyes and for his passion.”

“Remind me why you married Filippo again?”

“Well, he is…” She wondered, tasting the dessert from her finger with a content murmur. “Oh, he is just like this tiramisu, you know? He looks really good, really delicious, but when you take the first bite you only feel the bitterness of cocoa so you need to reach deeper and know him better to see that inside he’s really sweet,” Chiara finished with a small smile, giving him the spoon full of cream. “So which dessert is James?”

“The one I didn’t try for sure,” Q quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Then you have to promise me you’ll try it before you leave Salò,” she said, leaning closer. “And tell me which one you chose.” 

Q sighed, licking the mascarpone cream from the spoon and feeling like the sweetness take over his body, mixing with alcohol.

“But what if…” Q started, not sure how to put his words and doubts in to form that wouldn’t reveal much of his position but it would explain how he felt. “What if this dessert is very famous and lots of people want it but no one can have it when at the same time someone close to me loved it and tried it before?”

“I hear past tense there, don’t I?” Chiara asked, wrapping her arm around him again to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. “Life is too short to waste it on the past and doubts, Aden. We both know this too well.”

Q nodded with agreement, smiling for the first time for real. “I was an ass for not coming here, wasn’t I?”

“Well, maybe a little,” she laughed, putting into his hand a knife and a plate. “Now help me take this out to my mother before she eats your future boyfriend.”

 


	15. Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jess for this amazing beta :*

Anna poured him more wine, giving the bottle back to the waiter and ordering the next one. She had drank from her own glass with a pleased smile, holding it high and letting the light of the lantern highlight the liquid. 

“So how did you persuade an Englishman to live in Italy?” Bond asked, coming back to the subject they discussed earlier.

“It wasn’t easy, you know?” She laughed, nodding back to some people that were leaving the restaurant. “He came here to work in my papa’s vineyard, just for the summer. We both share a passion for the same things. We clicked,” she said, winking conspiratorially. “We could sacrifice small things, like Robert’s love for his country, in order to be together.”

“Do you think love for the country is a small thing?” James asked, smiling at her from the rim of the glass.

“Well, love for the country wouldn’t make you less alone at the end of the day,” she shrugged, poking her chin on the young couple sitting at the table near them. “It wouldn’t eat a diner with you, it wouldn’t hold you on a winter night close and safe and it wouldn’t make you happy.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Bond agreed, holding the glass up.

Anna tapped it with hers, looking at the agent with a mocking shock. “Are you a little bit romantic, Mr. Bond?”

“Maybe something left in me from the old times.”

“From the time you were here with Vesper?” She asked suddenly, still smiling. “You let the cat out of the bag when you said you’ve tried the wine. Back then we had only few bottles for our own use.”

The remark didn’t cause any expression on Bond’s face. He felt that this shoe must drop at some point. So he took another sip, taking his time before he said calmly, “Probably when I was here with Vesper.”

Anna nodded with some kind of understanding playing in her eyes. “She stayed with us, you know? When you were at the hospital. She hated the house after their parents died, so she lived with us.”

“I knew her just a couple of weeks back then,” Bond started to explain even if he didn’t want to make excuses **,** but she stopped him with a gesture of a hand.

“I’m not judging you,” she interrupted him. “She was a complicated person, with lots of nightmares closed deep inside her fragile body. She thought that she could handle them without help. She never shared with anyone, not even with Aden. Do you know how their parent really died?”

“Aden told me they had accident on the boat,” Bond admitted, watching as the woman smiled with bitterness.

“She told him that, explaining to us that she needed to protect him,” Anna said, leaning to him closer. “Their father was a brilliant man like Aden, but he was a gambler and an alcoholic. He took their mother on the boat and shot her, committing suicide shortly after. After that Aden was devastated because he couldn’t believe in the accident, he couldn’t explained to himself how it could happen so he ran to drugs, wanted to forget,” she whispered.

“And she took him in to keep him away from that lie?” Bond guessed. “Not to help him? She was afraid that he would turn from her and leave her?”

Anna sat back in the chair, nodding with agreement. “This family has too many lies and too many secrets. Too much pain,” she added with sadness playing in her tone, resting her head on her arm, as she watched him. “Did you love her?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he said slowly, hiding his face in the glass.

“Because you are a very complicated man,” she admitted seriously.

“Yes, I am,” Bond smile openly now. “But I have a feeling you can tell a lot more about me.”

“I can tell you love Aden,” she confirmed, poking a finger at James. “But I’m not sure if I like this. You’re not only complicated, as we agreed, but I assume you’re dangerous. I see that in your eyes.”

This time Bond barely held his reaction. He forced a playful smile, slowly taking a long sip of the alcohol. Just to calm himself down and lower the heart rate, he sunk into the chair to pretend being still relaxed. He arranged the glass back on the table, moving it in the light of the candle before he looked back at the woman. 

“I’m not sure form where this conclusion comes fr-” Bond started but she interrupted him quickly.

“Oh, now you want to play a dumb?” Anna clucked with disappointment, “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m only a sales man,” James shrugged, spreading his hands apologetically.

She signed with tiredness, shaking her head with disbelief. “I know Aden doesn’t work where he tells us,” she said, rushing to explain before Bond was able to deny it. “Even the best job at the privet company wouldn’t give him the money to take care of his parent’s house and help us in the way he does. Also it wouldn’t satisfy him because Aden loves his country and loves helping people just like you said.”

“So why put up with his little masquerade?” James asked a bit rough, not liking the idea about more secrets in Q’s life.

“I don’t know exactly what is he doing for living and I really don’t care,” Anna conceded quickly. “And I don’t what to make him worry about me knowing something that I shouldn’t. But I’m an old woman and I can see lots of things.”

Bond nodded, accepting her words. “And what do you see now?”

“That he’s finally calm with you,” she admitted, smiling gently. “And that he means everything to you. But is it just for now or is it for good? Will you hurt him? Or while you make him happy? What are you up to Mr. Bond?”   

“I trust him,” Bond answered slowly, holding woman’s gaze. “But we only work together.”

“Did you trust Vesper?” Anna asked with a challenged hidden in her tone.

Bond knew the answer to that question a long time ago. He thought that he trusted Vesper. He wanted to believe that. But he discovered only now, with Q, what trust really meant. It was much more than just saying ‘I love you’. It was much more than sacrificing for someone. It was an unconditional feeling of pouring belief in someone. 

Bond looked away, focusing on far lights on the horizon line. They dance on the lake surface, merging with a melody of some lazy jazz song coming from the inside of the restaurant and voices reaching over from tables around them. Suddenly he heard them, feeling the livingness and intensity of that place.

When was the last time he went to such a place only for a pleasure and not because of work? Hell, it could be years since he had done something so completely normal and yet so unreachable for him. 

Maybe he could have days like that with Q? That could be a normal life, right? There were operatives out there who managed to steal some of it, enjoying limited but still private time. He wanted to have Q like that, close and only his. After all he was a possessive bastard. When he wanted something so bad, he wanted it all. But love? He was too old, too cracked and too damn burned out to love, wasn’t he? 

“What you assumed,” Bond said finally, facing her. “It’s all very hypothetical.”

“Why is that?”

His voice didn’t contain any emotions when he explained, “Aden probably doesn’t what anything to do with me.”

“It’s a huge difference between not wanting something and being afraid of it,” Anna warned him, propping herself up on the table to look out at same small fuss going on with one of the guest and a waitress. 

Bond tensed too, quickly watching all exits and potential treats. He estimated the intrusive guest in one glare, checking if he would be able to take him in seconds, doing minimal damage, but Anna only made sure everything calmed down and she set back.

“It happens all the time, but back to the subject before they come back,” she pointed, giving him an assuring look. “Aden still loves his sister, but he treats her like perfection, something ideal… While at the same time, he always felt like something worse and useless. He didn’t even try to compete with her,” Anna underlined, shaking her head without understanding. “And adding to that, his loyalty and willingness to give up his happiness for a greater cause… Just imagine how he must feel alone?”

“I don’t have to,” Bond admitted, turning his gaze on Q coming from the restaurant with a hand full of plates. James gave Anna another smile to thank her soundlessly for the advice when he add, “I perfectly know how.”

“I know you do, but if you were to hurt him in any way, I’d show you how Italian people revenge their love ones,” she whispered to him secretly as Chaira put plates in front of them.

“Still alive?” Q teased Bond, dropping on the chair next to him with a cheerful smile playing on his lips. “Unbelievable.”

“Watch your words merdina!” His aunt reached across the table to snap him with a napkin. 

Q managed to avoid the blow, hiding swiftly behind Bond’s back but the agent moved on the side, giving her the access. 

“I can believe it only took you five minutes to get him on your side,” Q signed dramatically, seating back.

“You know that I have some soft spot for good wine and even better company,” James explained, winking to both women. 

“It shame that everything that’s good can’t last for longer,” Chiara said. “I should go back home before Filippo sends carabinieri to look for me.”

“And I should be back on the bar,” Anna added as she observed the area with a concern when she spotted there was still some confusion with the guest. “Would you mind if we’re going to leave you alone?”

Q opened mouth to protest, but Bond was faster. “Not at all.”

“But you need to visit us again before you leave the town,” Chiara pointed at Q with her spoon. She took last bite quickly and stood up, gathering her belongings. “So I’m not saying my goodbyes.”

“And I won’t miss a chance to kiss handsome men,” Anna said, kissing them on the cheek. Rushing to help her staff, she shouted over her shoulder, “If you need something just order it.”

With that, both women were gone, leaving only silence behind them. Their table situated at the far corner of the restaurant’s outside area allowed them some privacy, where Bond could still observe everything from his place. 

He felt the smell and heat radiating from Q who now sat close, supporting his arm on his chair like he was looking for more warmth. Bond could recognize a subtle aroma of the soup they found in the house, but underneath there was only Q, tempting and delicious scent of his skin, his sweat mixed with some faint note of bergamot aftershave. It was something familiar and new in the same time, reminding Bond of good things, far off but pleasant memories of their first meeting in the National Gallery.

“We clicked back then, didn’t we?” Bond asked suddenly, pulling Q’s attention.

The young man faced him, tearing his eyes off of unstoppable stream of pedestrians passing near their table. He frowned at Bond, trying to read from his eyes. “I might be a genius but I’m not a telepath.”

“When we met in the museum, I think we clicked,” He explained with a low voice, leaning closer to Q. 

“I guess we did,” Q smiled, intrigued quirking an eyebrow at him. “Of course, apart from the fact that you insulted me in the first sentence you ever said to me.”

“I really thought you were joking!” Bond huffed out a laughed. “I saw you a couple of times in the Q-Branch but M warned me that you’re a very valuable asset and if I scare you in any way, I’d pay for it with my head. So when you approached me at the museum I thought you were just some replacement, because Q was too consumed by the mess in HQ.” The man shrugged with an apologetic smile.

“A replacement? Are you serious right now, 007?” Q questioned with voice full of doubt. “The best agent at the service of her majesty didn’t know about the changes in his work place?”

“All right! You got me,” Bond admitted, hiding his smile behind the rim of his glass. “You insulted me first with that talk about old ships full of bullocks,” 

Q chuckled into the hem of his sweater. “I knew you had an age problem, old man.”

Bond snorted, “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what that old man can do with you.”

“What?” Q asked profoundly, rising his gaze on James.

Q’s eyes seemed darker, almost black in the dimmed light. He looked at the man with a shade of smile, real curiosity. And Bond knew he couldn’t hold on in this suspension for much longer. Not here, not after evening like that, not when Q looked at him whit such a trust and faith. 

So he reached for his face, gently poking Q’s chin up. Leaning in with a smooth move, he caught Q’s lips in his own, drinking Q’s breath with a kiss.

This time Bond didn’t force himself on Q. He only took Q’s lips softly in his own, slowly tasting him and waiting. His hand smoothed over the delicate but cold skin, stroking Q’s cheek with tenderness, holding him still close when he finally pulled back. And even if Q didn’t answer and didn’t run for more, he didn’t move back either.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” he said, burning his cold hands in James’s sweater. 

“It’s the best bloody idea I’ve ever had,” Bond opposed, adding urgently before Q could say something more, “I do know about Ana from Medical. I told her that she was stupid if those flowers meant something to me. I broke her heart because I knew this was the only way she’d be back at home with her husband.”

“James, I never-“Q started, but Bond interrupted him quickly.

“I also know that Eve is a single mother and this is the reason I’d never hurt her in my usual way,” he added with a serious tone. “I know Tanner wanted to have a wife and kids so I sometimes take him out for a drink, play as his douchebag brother just to let him fight for the honor of girls. And I know you, Aden, more than you think.”

“James just-”Q tried to hold him again.

Bond only shushed him with his finger and added, “I know that you bite your lips and the inside of your cheek when you’re stressed. I know you drink tea because coffee makes you too anxious and I know that if you need to decide about something important, you hand-write down a list, using your special blue pen and…”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Q muttered with an impatient huff and suddenly leaned in Bond’s space.

He clenched his hands in the man’s sweater and pulled him in, pinning to Bond’s lips with a content murmur. He felt Bond’s arms closing slowly around him, his hands traveled under the leather jacket Q had never gave back, and reached up to draw him desperately close. He felt a lazy smile that spread on Bond’s lips before the man licked inside him with an overwhelming hunger and need.

The man pulled their chairs closer in a swift motion, brining Q tightly into his arm. He deepened the kiss, biting into young man’s lips harder as he felt how Q opened for him and welcomed him with a low sound of appreciation. Bond sensed a cold hand slipping under his sweater, looking for warmth. Q drew his finger on the man’s skin only gently. And Bond knew that he was exploring Q’s mouth with more desperation than gentleness, but he waited for it so long that he couldn’t stop now, drawing Q even closer and off his chair.

At this point Q surrendered, melting into James’ warm body, into his safe arms. He didn’t care anymore that people might be watching them or his aunt might see it or that it was insane. Oh, it was insane, but James felt too good to let him go now. He not only wanted James, but James was making him feel needed. Bond craved for him with desperation, devouring Q with this kiss like he would never do it again, like he would never taste anyone, greedy and eager. 

“So bloody long,” Bond muttered into his lips, tangling his fingers into mess of Q’s hair to keep him close as he marked his lips with more gentle kisses and slow strokes. “I want to taste you like that at home where no one would watch.”

Q closed his eyes with a blissful smile, whispering into Bond’s lips, “I don’t see a flaw in that plan.”

“Good,” Bond growled, kissing him softly one more time.

Q moved his fingers on Bond’s chest, feeling as the man shuddered under his delicate touch. He smiled, thinking of how James was reacting only on a simple gesture like that. It was fascinating, even incredible to look how such a strong and powerful man could be influenced by only his small hands. And he couldn’t believe how he could resist something like that.

“Q,” Bond whispered to his ear, stroking his skin with wet lips. “I know our public make out sessions could become a thing but if we won’t go right now I’m going to take you on this table and in front of your aunt.”

Q hummed a laughed, drawing his hands out of James’ sweater with a mocking growl of disappointment. 

“You’re going to be a little possessive shit, aren’t you?” The man asked with an amusement as he stood up and pulled Q with him, instantly wrapping his arm around Q’s neck to hold him close.

The young man snorted, pretending to be offended. “Is that a problem?”

“Not even slightly.” Bond bent down to Q’s ear again, maneuvering them between people and in the car’s direction.  “I’m finding it extremely appealing.”

“You’re surprising me,” Q conceded, pushing his hand into James’s back pocket to settle more comfortable under his arms and snuggled in the crook of the man’s neck. Rubbing his lips on Bond’s rough jaw’s line, he murmured. “I feel ashamed that I don’t know you as well as you know me.”

“I’ll give you plenty of time to know every inch of my body,” Bond promised, letting Q free only to open the driver door for him.

 “You know that’s not what I meant,” Q said, getting in.

He observed as James jogged around the car, slipping to the passenger seat in the next moment. He didn’t let Q to say anything more because he leaned in and pinned Q to the inside of the car, kissing him with even more urgent need. 

“Drive,” he growled into Q’s opened mouth, sucking Q’s lover lip before he slowly set back. “Car sex is a plan for tomorrow.”

Q smirked, shaking his head with disbelief as he started the engine and retracted from the parking lot with squealing tires.


	16. Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Jess](http://hecallsmediamonds.tumblr.com/) ( _again_ ) for your patience and resistance. You.Are.Amazing!

Q cursed at the long code, putting it as quickly as he could while being distracted by a pair of warm hands. They slipped under his jacket and sweater, tickling him with gentle strokes as Bond moved closer and pressed against his body from behind.

He couldn’t help but give in to the touch, leaning on man’s chest as he laid his head to rest on Bond’s shoulder. Hot lips found their way on his skin when Bond burned his face into the crook of Q’s neck. A warm breath ghosted over his skin just before James took a long lick, murmuring something incoherently and running his lips along Q’s neckline up to his ear.

“I’ll take you slow and deep,” Bond whispered, smiling into his skin. “I want to hear your voice when you’re just on the verge, tasting you and feeling inside you.”

Q shivered with those words, clenching one of his hands on the handle. He bit his lips to mute an unwanted moan, resting his forehead on the pleasantly cold surface of the door. His fingers froze over the keypad when he felt Bond’s fingers moved lower now, riming the edge of his jeans only with his fingertips.

“Will you let me finish this?” Q growled impatiently, backing his hips anyway to be even closer to Bond and feel how the man wanted him, how he was ready. “Or you want to fuck me against the door?”

“I want to have you against everything,” Bond admitted profoundly, but he obeyed and moved his hands to rest them loosely on Q’s hips.

Q only chucked, putting in the last digits of the code. He turned in Bond’s arms in the same moment the locked clanged, releasing the door. Pulling Bond by the hem of the sweater, Q stepped slowly back, reaching for man’s lips as he walked him inside.

“Bossy,” the man noted, letting Q to guide them as he licked inside his mouth and in the same time drew his hands up to slide the jacket off of Q’s shoulders.

It fell on the floor, joining their hastily tossed off shoes when they passed the hall, aiming for the mattress. Q impatiently tugged on Bond’s sweater, rushing him to take it off. When Bond threw it behind his back with a carefree smile playing on his lips, Q could finally put his hands on the hot man’s skin. He ran his fingers across James’ skin, watching with fascination as his muscles twitched under the touch.

Bond covered Q’s hand, pressing it flat on his chest when he leaned to his mouth. Q could feel the rushing rhythm of Bond’s heart as the man kissed him slowly, first licking only his lips, teasing and provoking him. And just when Q leaned away to take a breath, Bond forced his tongue inside, deepening the pleasure. 

They parted only for second for Bond to tear Q’s sweater off him, letting it fall to the floor and join the rest of the clothes. It felt so strange to crave for someone so much. Bond wasn’t sure if he ever felt that way before, if he ever was so hungry, so in need for closeness and touch. He wanted Q now, all the time, everywhere and in every possible way. But he wanted him slow, he wanted to enjoy this, take care of Q and make sure he would only scream from too much pleasure. So James kissed Q harder, closing his small and fragile body inside his arms. Running his hands over the slender back, he tried to hold Q as close as he could, tearing a desperate groan from young man’s lips. Q’s hands find their way again to his body, trailing lines of his back’s muscles with noticeable admiration. His fingers immersed deep into his skin, run up his shoulder to tangled in his hair and keep him even closer when Q returned the kiss.

James didn’t want to rush it, but he still wanted them naked **.** His hands slid down the back of Q’s body, slipping behind the belt of his jeans. He suddenly clenched his fingers on a deliciously shaped ass, pulling Q up.

“Show off,” Q whisper into his lips as he wrapped his legs tighter around Bond’s waist, letting the man to carry him.

Bond smirked in to the kiss, murmuring “Are you regretting calling me an old man now?”

“Well, you’re older than me by fifteen years,” Q huffed out a laugh. 

James only growled to that and suddenly he let Q free from his arms, tossing him on the mattress. Q, falling into the pile of soft pillows and duvets, started to laugh even more. He hid his face into the hem of the fabric, wanted to mute the giggle when he felt impatient hands on his belt. Bond quickly undid the buttons of his jeans, tearing his trousers off of him in one motion.

“Going commando?” James asked with satisfaction playing in his voice.

“We have clothes limitations, remember?” Q said looking up at Bond again and inhaling the air swiftly as he saw that the man stood in front of him completely naked. 

James only smiled, seeing mixed adoration and astonishment drawn on Q’s face when he moved smoothly and hovered over him. He lied down between Q’s thighs, pressing their bodies together, pushing him into the mattress and kissing him with one motion. Trapping Q’s hands and drawing them up, he spread that gorgeous body under him, muttering his approbation into younger man’s lips. 

“I’d never…” Q purred, gasping with breath when Bond licked into his mouth again. “I’d never thought you’d feel that way,” he finished, arching in the man’s arms.

Bond rocked their hips together, moving over him smoothly. Q felt as his hardening length brushed over James’ hot skin, compelling weaves of pleasure with every slow rub. The man’s kisses traveled from Q’s lips to his jaw line and lower, sucking and biting gently on his neck. James’ hands lose their grip, trailing the pattern of his mouth devouring every inch of Q’s body. 

Q rested his hands on James’ shoulders, wanting to pull him up, but then Bond took a long, indolent lick of his abdomen, taking all the power to oppose from him.

“God, I love your taste,” Bond whispered, breathed out a hot air over his skin. “I could have you like this all night.”

“James, I can handle some rough and quick sex,” Q tried to say with firm tone but he moaned the words. “I’m not some fifteen-year-old virgin.”

“Rough and quick sex…,” Bond started, smiling cunningly when he marked the younger man’s skin with gentle kisses and drew his hands towards his thighs to spread them open, “… is for people I don’t care about.”

With those words, Bond leaned in and took a lingering lick on Q’s cock, feeling it burn deep inside his mouth. Q’s fingers dug into Bond’s skin when the young man murmured his name, losing his breath as Bond started taste him, sucking slowly on him.

“Oh God, James…” Q whispered, clenching his fingers in Bond’s short hair as he bucked his hips in an uncontrolled move.

With a jolt of pleasure running down his body he thought fleetingly that he’s never felt this way. Any of the people who he slept with never gave so much attention while doing this to him. He felt the gentleness in James’ moves, he felt the unspoken admiration in the way Bond kissed and touched him. It was unreal to be treated that way, to feel important to someone.

Bond was down between his legs, taking another careful lick to swallow him deeply and tearing a desperate whimper from his throat. Q shuddered unwillingly, being pinned to the mattress by the man’s strong hands, feeling as they travel on his body, massaging him with the same rhythm as James’ lips devoured him.

The man smiled around his full length, looking at him from above. His gaze was filled with content, with such overwhelming pleasure that could set Q off in seconds. James must have felt that Q was close because he pulled back, leaving him with delicate strokes of his lips. He propped himself on his arms to go back to Q’s lips and kiss him hungrily.

“Remind me to take care of that in the morning,” he murmured, nuzzling at Q’s neck.

“Memory problems?” Q asked turning to James to meet his lips. He smiled into the kiss, adding “It could happen at your age.”

Bond’s eyes narrowed as he gave Q a cold look. “You’ll regret those words.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Q said bravely, allowing James to maneuver him in his arms.

He turned Q around, leaving him on the side so Q could still see what Bond was doing. Resting on his arm, James hovered over the young man, letting him to watch as his finger slips into his mouth in the same way his cock did seconds ago. Q looked at him with true fascination when he moved his finger deliberately slow between his lips and then licked it all along, moistening it with lazy moves of his tongue.

“Fuck…,” the word slipped out of Q’s mouth unwanted when he traced Bond’s tongue movements with his eyes. “I’ve never seen anything so hot.”

“That’s because,” Bond started, taking his finger out of his lips, “You’re a hipster who’s never had really good sex,” he finished, suddenly moving his hands between Q’s ass cheeks.

When James stroked the finger over Q’s tender point, the shiver running through Q’s body was so strong that Bond felt it under his hands. Q arched to him, pressing along his chest. His skin covered with goosebumps as Q shut his eyes, purring something incoherent into the pillow.

“Look at me,” Bond requested, pressing his fingers in as gently as he could. It slipped slowly to the hotness inside of Q’s pulsating body. Q shook his head, making James growl at him low, “Aden, look at me. I want to see if it hurts.”

“No,” Q groaned, slowly turning to him, looking with his eyes full of need. “It’s good, it’s amazing.”

“Good,” Bond whispered, leaning to his ear. “Now I can make a mess out of you.”

He moved his hand in a smooth motion to further test the waters, but when Q gave him another loud sound of appreciation, he started to massage more intensely, while finding Q’s lips again. He licked inside the younger man’s mouth with the same rhythm as his finger fucking into Q’s tight ass, still feeling some resistance. And wanting nothing more for Q than to give him pure pleasure, he decided immediately, leaving young man’s lips to kiss a trial on his back he lowered on the mattress. 

“You look so beautiful that way,” Bond murmured, suddenly taking a lazy lick over Q’s ass.

His tongue started to work together with his finger, thrusting inside Q with a slow cadence, tearing a cry of enjoyment from the young man’s mouth. Q jerked his hips up involuntarily, wanting to be close and have Bond deep in him. He felt James lips kissed him there tenderly – his two fingers now moved inside, delicately making him falling apart little by little. But it wasn’t enough. He needed James. He needed to feel him, to have him inside. God, he never felt such an urgent desire for someone. He never felt so much in one moment. His thoughts were mess, his head was full of pleasure and he could only crave for…

“More,” Q moaned out loud. “I want you more.”

“With pleasure,” Bond said, smiling against his skin as he left his last kiss on Q’s ass cheek and pulled up.

James hard length brushed over the curve of Q’s ass, sending another pulse of almost painful pleasure to his body. He was ready a long time ago, taming his needs only to prepare Q, to make him feel cared and lusted for, but now seeing Q spread on the mattress for him, he almost couldn’t hold back. 

Bond reached for his jeans blindly, going for the back pocket. He pulled the plastic package he snuck from the restaurant’s bathroom, at the same time blessing all Italians that loved sex in toilets. He put on the condom with shaking hands, smiling because he didn’t remember the last time he was so nervous about sleeping with someone. 

Bond pressed on Q’s hole, still trying to be gentle. He put his free hand, smoothing over Q’s back with soft strokes when he entered him slowly, checking for any sign of discomfort on Q’s gorgeous face. But Q was relaxed under him. He smiled delicately from behind a complete mess of his hair, with his face pressed a bit into the pillows. He moved his hips up, demanding soundlessly for more, so James pushed the whole way, slipping into the heat inside this slender body.

“You’re so tight,” James groaned, leaning in to cover Q’s body with his own when he waited for Q to relax again. 

“I can handle you,” Q murmured, bending his head so he could find Bond’s lips.

“I know you can, mio caro,” Bond huffed words into Q’s mouth, drinking in his breath before he kissed him hungrily and finally started to move.

The rhythm was slow, even lazy at the beginning. James rest on one of his arms above Q, leaving the other hand tangled in the young man’s hair to stroke gently through the raven strands. He pressed his face into the warm crook of Q’s neck, inhaling his scent with a murmur of pleasure. Q smelt like him – like sex. His skin was already covered with sheen of sweat when he licked the nape of his neck. Feeling it on his tongue, having Q’s pulsating body around him, hearing his fast breath under him, James couldn’t stop his hips from hitting harder and reaching deeper.

Q arched even more, meeting his faster movements, rushing him. He still wanted to feel James more and he wanted to take him all. Q wanted to give him everything – forget all his limits.  But by reaching that far he felt as his own pleasure hit him inside, crawling from down his abdomen and spread on the rest of his body with James’ every move. He felt his muscles started to shake when an amazing, new feeling started to overtake his body, making him moan even louder.

“James, I ca-” he gasped, jerking his hips up when he felt the hard rock of Bond’s thighs that pressed him into the duvets. “I can’t anymore.”

“Just come,” James whispered to his ear. “Come for me, dazzle me,” he added, feeling Q’s body closing around him. 

Q only managed to find Bond’s hands on the sheet, tangling their fingers together when suddenly he felt a strong wave run through him with an electric shiver. At the same time, James pushed into him one more time, coming inside with a strong, low growl, breathing out hard somewhere close to his ear. Bond’s arm gave up and the man half fell on him and half on the mattress with a sudden and quiet laugh. He instantly pulled Q into his arms, pressing to Q’s back while still being inside him.

“Incredible,” Bond hummed into Q’s ear, kissing the nape of his neck. “You’re incredible.”

“I’m too tired to argue,” Q murmured, snuggling along the man’s torso. 

He smiled lazily when he felt Bond’s arms wrapped tighter around his waist and his fingers met with his own. 

“I never felt that way,” Q admitted after a longer moment of silent, interrupted only by the sound of their fast breathing. 

Bond smiled into Q’s skin, marking his shoulder with small kisses. 

“Me too,” slipped from man’s lips, before he even thought about it. 


	17. Begining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so so much Jess for once more perfectly edited chapter that is fully readable :D

It was still early morning but it felt late since the light pressing through the curtains was dimmed and gray. He heard rain – it must be heavy. Drops were pounding on the windows furiously, playing a rhythmical melody. It echoed in the room together with whistles of wind. Freezing air blew into the house and filled it up with the smell of the rain – wet leaves and ground – the typical aroma of a storm.

The noise of the first thunder woke him up completely. He flinched, instantly opening his eyes, alert and ready. Only a warm body pressed along his side held him in place. When he sensed slender outline of Q’s back under his fingers, he breath out with relief and sank back into the pillows. He pulled the young man closer and smiled into the hot and delicate skin. He gently brushed Q’s shoulder with his lips, marking him with meaningless kisses as his thoughts started to slowly ease out.

They were safe, closed in a secured house when on the outside the storm started to overtake the lake, blowing more wind and rain into the wall of windows. The murmur of thunder rung over the whole town but Q didn’t move. He was sleeping deeply, snuggled in James’ arms.

Bond rose, resting his head on the free hand as he looked down on the younger man. Q’s hair was a total, messy disaster. It softly fell on his face, on the nape of Q’s neck and spread on the pillows, contrasting with the white fabric and Q’s skin. Ah, the skin . . .Bond didn’t have enough of it last night. Probably never would.

“You got me there,” he whispered, huffing hot air onto Q’s hair.

He gently pushed away some dark curls from Q’s shoulder, leading his lips to trail the patter of small moles down the young man’s back. Bond didn’t want to wake Q up. Not yet. He knew that Q must be tired. Especially after the second round where during the night his eager Quartermaster awoke him with his lips. But a soft touch broke through the surface of Q’s dreaming and slowly woke him up. He started to hear the rain and the hit of next strong thunder but still didn’t open his eyes. Making a low sound of appreciation, he turned sleepily, pressing against James’ chest and nuzzling to the crook of man’s neck to hide his face.

Bond’s hands traveled down his body, going lower with lingering touches, settling on his ass and drawing him even closer. When James’ fingertips delve into his skin, fingers crushing his muscles in a lazy massage, he felt the tension and far reminiscence of pain. But he still had never felt so good after having sex.

Normally he wouldn’t even spend a whole night with someone, sneaking out before he fell asleep. Sex was just a duty that he had to do because his body needed it to proceed. Apart from a few seconds of quick orgasms it was never a pleasure. His lovers never spent time on him; never give him the feeling that he meant something more than just a quick fuck. But then again, he didn’t give them much in return.

Bond however surprised him in every aspect. Q always perceived James as someone extremely brutal, hidden behind armor and pretend emotions. Even when Bond was charming a mark or an informant, Q saw that he was cold, drained from deeper feelings and regret. And he admired it in some way when in the other, he just wanted to provoke James, make him hurt or aroused to check if there was something real hidden behind this facades. And finally he discovered that when James was in bed with him he was tender and careful . . .every time, with every kiss and every touch. And none of that gesture was pretend or restrained. They were full, hot and honest. And that was something Q fell for completely.

He couldn’t come up with a single disadvantage that would convince him otherwise. He tried really hard but there was nothing. He even stopped to think about Vesper. She was still rooted somewhere deep in his mind, but he just didn’t care anymore. He was the one alive – the one with future. He didn’t want to waste any more of it. Not when he felt that new, tight feeling down his chest, this little and strange tingling that could be happiness.

He smiled again on that thought and cracked his eyes open, meeting Bond’s careful gaze.

“Morning,” he tried to said but ended up yawning.

James smirked at that and leaned in immediately, taking advantage of his lips. He stormed his mouth, kissing Q hard and breathless. His lips quickly traveled on Q’s cheeks, jaw and lower, tasting the skin of his neck in more small, eager kisses.

“Morning,” James whispered when he stopped for a moment and then pressed on Q’s mouth another noisy kiss.

Q couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out with short laugh. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with the real 007?”

“Ah, I get it,” Bond said with the tone of an expert. “You’re the grumpy morning type?”

Q raised an eyebrow up at him, asking with mocking concern, “You’d be the fucking happy morning person then?”

“Depends,” James started, settling more comfortable along Q’s body. “I usually wake up quite early but I’m all for staying long in bed,” he added with a meaningful smile and then reached for Q’s mouth.

Q wanted to give in to the kiss, but stopped in a half move, suddenly occupied by another thought. Bond saw Q’s expression change, his eyes becoming wider when he pulled back and looked at Bond carefully.

Holding the man’s face in his hands, Q smoothed his fingers in a lazy motion over James’ temple. His gaze wondered to Bond’s swollen lips as he considered if he should just go back to kissing him and forget about this stupid thing that snuck into his head but before he decided to speak up, James interrupted him.

“Second thoughts?” he asked with a smile that supposed to cover his concern but some of it snuck into his voice anyway. “Do you regret that we…”

“No, never,” Q said quickly before Bond finished. “I might be making decisions very cautiously but when I do so I’m never changing my mind.”

“So you’d never give up on me,” James stated teasingly, more then asked.

“Would I?” the young man rebounded with some sudden irritation playing in his tone. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” Bond asked with a knowing smile and leaned in to reach Q’s lips again.

Q rolled his eyes, avoiding the kiss as he impatiently explained, “Are you going to give up on me the first thing we’d cross the English border?”

“And till the end of my presumably short life I’ll go on an every mission equipped only with my bare hands?” James summed, still trying to catch young man’s lips.

“Bond,” Q scolded him with voice that didn’t carry any amusement. “I’m serious.”

“Me too,” James murmured, catching Q’s hands.

Suddenly drawing them up and locking above Q’s head, he kissed the young man forcefully. He pushed Q into the mattress even more as he spread the smaller body under his own. Not caring about Q’s weak protest he licked inside his mouth with an appreciating growl.

It was just a matter of seconds before Q melted in his arms again. A moan escaped his lips as he gave in to the kiss, instantly wrapping his legs around Bond’s waist to pull him closer. He broke free from man’s grip and tangled his fingers in James’ short hair to desperately make the pleasure last longer.

Bond smiled, feeling Q’s obedience. It meant that the young man trusted him to the point of giving James power over his body. Q wasn’t holding and pretending anymore. He was honest and open. And James wanted to give the same in return.

He may have already forgotten how it felt to want only one person. He had no bloody idea that it would happen to him, that he would have someone for whom he would be ready to kill and die again, but strangely he didn’t feel uncomfortable with this thought. And no, it didn’t happen overnight. James was sure it happened a long time ago, between one near death experience and another, when he had realized that he was thinking more about Q than the success of the job. Even if he was too old for that and even if he didn’t have much to offer, he could still give Q this part of himself that was untouched, that was deep inside him, waiting for a moment like that.

James pulled back gently, kissing Q softly one more time. Resting on his elbows, he hovered over the young man.

“Do you really think I’d do something like that to you?” He asked, picking on the subject.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Q shrugged, avoiding looking at James. His gaze loomed somewhere over Bond’s body, but not on his face when he quietly added, “You are who you are. I’m not going to blame you for this and I don’t want to change yo-”

“And that’s what I love about you the most,” James interrupted him suddenly.

“I need to know how to proceed with al- what?” Q stopped, swiftly turning his gaze on the man like Bond’s words hit him only now. “What have you said?”

“Just tell me yourself,” Bond said, giving him a wild smile. “If not the love pushed me to sleep with the most valuable employee in the whole MI6, the most powerful hacker on the earth, the greatest genius and, on the top of that, brother of my ex-female-lover…” Bond stopped meaningfully and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Then I have no bloody idea what else could do that.”

“Oh God,” Q almost whine, covering his mouth with full astonishment as he mumbled through his fingers. “You just haven’t said what you just said, right?”

Bond snorted on that reaction, “Is that a bad thing or…”

“No!” Q burst suddenly, instantly taking Bond’s face in his hands to draw him closer. “No, no… Absolutely no,” he murmured as he started to mark James’ lips with small, tender kisses.

He suddenly took over Bond’s body, wrapping his legs tighter around man’s waist to turn him on the back with one smooth move. This time it was Q who trapped James’ wrists over his head and setting comfortable on his lap, he leans closer.

“Are you sure it’s not just postcoital euphoria?” He asked seriously.

“I’m sure,” Bond said with a smile playing on his lips, “I don’t say things like that to everyone I had slept with.”

Q nodded slowly, releasing the man’s hands. He bent down to hide his face in the crook of James’ neck, nuzzling on it. Bond was drenched in his scent, he smelled like a mix of their sweat and sex, like he already belong to Q.

“I think I’ve never felt so happy before,” he said suddenly, surprised by his realization. “And in the same time I’m so afraid that if I say something more, my life would go to hell again.”

Bond slowly runs his hand up Q’s back, wanting to calm him down. His finger gently stroked Q’ skin and finally tangled in the mess of his hair.

“I’m the reckless one,” he whispered straight to his ear. “I don’t expect you to follow me if you don’t feel like it.”

“But I do,” Q answered firmly, rising up to see man’s face. “Against all odds, I do love you.”

He looked as the usual, sly smile slowly faded from James’ lips and the man gaze darkened with seriousness. His hands stopped their slow massage, closing suddenly around his waist. Bond frowned, searching Q’s face carefully which hovered now over him.

“Did I say something wrong?” Q huffed out a laugh, trying to cover his insecurity with a weak attempt of acting carefree.

“Oh God, no,” Bond denied quickly and his gaze softened when he took Q’ face in his hand, running his thumb on the lips that were only his now. He smiled wryly, looking at Q with some kind of new fascination when he added, “It just… Nobody has really said that to me before.”

“How has that even happened?” Q wondered and asked before he could hold himself. “I mean that I’m just surprised that man like you would never hear … You know, I thought that Ve-”

“She didn’t,” Bond interrupted him rapidly, closing Q’s mouth with his thumb and stopping from saying more. “But I’d care less right now. I’m perfectly happy with you being exactly where you are.”

“Oh,” Q only managed to huff before Bond bite into his lips again.

This time the kiss had nothing to do with their previous laziness. It was strong, forceful and longing like James wouldn’t taste his lips for ages. Bond felt something new wake up inside him, some burning desire that actually had nothing to do with their bodies. He wanted to make Q his, only his … With everything what he had, with his hands and lips. James wanted to erase every memory of someone else from Q’s mind and instead replace it with what they shared now. And even when he was a bit jealous and a bit too possessive, it was okay because he felt like that for the first time in his life, because someone really, truly loved _him_. Not the scared orphan, not the 007, killer and cold bastard, but just James Bond.

“Do you know that I would never let you go?” He asked between kisses, taking a long lick along Q’s throat and biting his Adam’s apple that trammeled under his tongue. “Do you know that you’re mine now?”

Q arched above him, pressing his hips down and moving them slowly, moaning with every friction of their bodies. “That sound quiet perfect, actually.”

Bond smirked with some darken expression hidden in his eyes, watching as Q sat up again on him.  He swung on his lap, moving his body in lingering circles, brushing his ass on James’ fully hard cock. Q’s head dropped, exposing his long, delicious neck and the rest of his perfectly shaped body with invitation for Bond to touch it. And he did that, running only his fingertips up Q’s arms and then down his back to settled them on his ass. He crushed Q’s cheeks between his fingers, tearing from the young man’s mouth a long whine of pleasure.

“I hate to bring it back,” Q murmured with next heavy breath, not stopping smooth motions of his hips over Bond’s body. “But I think we should get back to the case.”

“Later the shower, the case and everything,” Bond demanded when he spread Q’s ass so his length could brush now on man’s delicate spot, teasing him. “Now I’m going to make you forget about every man that touched you before me.”

Q looked down at him from under his half-closed eyes. They glittered with passion, with want. Bond could almost feel that Q’s body was yearning for him, trembling with every harder push. He promised himself that when they would be back in London, they are going to do this endlessly, without any barriers. For now, he reached for the last condom, putting it on himself with smooth move.

Above him Q only smiled lazily, making another circle with body. He was completely beautiful. Utterly gorgeous, Bond thought when Q leant into him again, stopping just an inch from his lips.

“They might have touched me but I didn’t feel a thing for them,” Q whispered, looking at James with full attention of his dark eyes. “You’re the only one that heard this from me.”

Bond growled with appreciation, arching under Q with a sly smile. He reached deeper for Q’s ass, wanting to tease him now with his fingers. “So now you’re going to feel everything from me.”

“And only you,” Q requested brushing his dry lips over the man’s when he stopped his hand. “No fingers. I want to feel you. Now.”

“Like I said, a bossy little shit,” James purred a content murmur before he reached for Q’s lips and pushed into him gently at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to say sorry to everyone who waits for an end to this story. For the past months my life has been a bit of mess, but this is not an excuse, I know! 
> 
> I will give you this end with big thank you for everyone who still wait and who want to come around here and check if there is a new update.


	18. Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jess one more time for correcting all my omissions!

“I do hate the idea of splitting up,” Bond said once he turned off the engine of the car.

Q unbuckled his seatbelt, instantly leaning in James’ space. “You said yourself that you won’t introduce me to her.”

“It’s for safety reason,” Bond admitted with deliberate carefulness, dragging Q closer by his neck to kiss him one more time before they would be on crowded streets again. “I don’t want her to know you in person.”

“So why her? Can we do it with my computer?” Q murmured into James’ lips, avoiding the kiss.

Bond growled with impatience and pressed their mouths together, making a low sound of appreciation when he finally got inside Q, taking the kiss he wanted for the entire drive to Verona.

They manage to leave the house around noon. Both of them tried to stretch the time they had together but if it wasn’t the case itself, it was the hunger that finally lured them out. Q found a shop in Verona that was selling parts needed to resurrect his computer completely and Bond got in touch with his old contact from times when he was stationing in Italy before he became a double-oh. Bond heard she didn’t work for government anymore and as they were still off MI6’s raider they had to rely on other sources. Q didn’t like the idea. He thought that they could go on without fake papers, tracking the girl online but Bond was the one who practically lived in the field, probably knowing better how to conduct such situations.

“Jealous?” The man asked pulling up just a bit to look into Q’s grayish eyes, searching them for an answer.

“And what if I am?” Q challenged him, bravery holding James’ gaze.

“I’d say you’re damn sexy while being so,” Bond said with a murmur playing down his chest.

Q could feel the vibration under his hands that he slipped in James’ t-shirt, starving for the man’s warmth constantly. Bond wore those ridiculous thigh jeans and his uncle’s leather jacket, looking so bloody good.

Some of the admiration must reflect in his eyes, because the agent only smiled when he tangled his hands harder in his hair, bringing their foreheads together.

“We still have time to eat something at the old town,” James proposed. “Then I’ll go to see her and you’d buy your stuff. We’re going to meet here in a half an hour, to take advantage of the almost empty parking lot.”

“Sounds promising,” Q grinned, catching Bond’s lips in a soft kiss before he pulled back. He quickly took the car before they both could have a chance to make up their minds, adding when he was already outside, “And since I have to clean the footage of every possible camera that would catch us today it would be a perfect payment for my effort.”

“If I could only pay like that to everyone…” Bond laughed, getting a withering look from Q.

With a grin still playing on his lips he wrapped his arm around Q’s neck and led him to the elevator. Once they entered it – Bond kissed Q hungry and dirty, pressing him to the mirror inside the cabin. Taking the last opportunity of being alone, Bond wrapped his arms high around Q’s waist drawing him close with insane desperation. He tried to ignore some far remorse of fear that played at the back of his head, putting it on the tab of their unfinished case.  This moment had reminded him about something, something that should be forgotten. He didn’t want to bring it back together with bad luck, so he smiled encouraging to their mirror reflection.

“A lunch, half an hour and we’ll be again alone and together,” he add, kissing Q’s temple as he let him go before the evaluator’s door opened, reveling for them the city bathed in afternoon sun.

Q only nodded, hiding his eyes behind sunglasses. The rays were strong but the weather was still chilly at this time of year even when they got closer to the coast. He wrapped himself in a sweater once he felt a sudden lack of James’ warmth. And maybe it was unbelievable how close they become in such a short time but Q didn’t put much attention in nuances like that. Not now. Not anymore. He wanted Bond. Bond wanted him. That’s what counted the most for him right now. It was what he had to think about to live through the end of this case and then go back safely home.

Only half an hour, he repeated in his mind, pushing away the unpleasant feeling of something not being right. He felt anxious because he couldn’t control this little operation, be with James inside his ear. He felt an unpleasant shiver, trying to shake off the feeling. Putting close attention to everything that they passed, he observed people from behind his sunglasses.

Bond maneuvered on the streets like he would know the city. They took next turn left, entering the main part of the old town. It was a normal day just after lunch hours but the market was jammed with tourist and locals. The first ones were probably attracted by stunning, massive Colosseum or the endless lines of subtle and old tenant houses, surrounding the square. Tourists were circling around meaninglessly, taking hundreds of photos. James led them far from this, crossing the marked and ignoring small cafeterias there. They took the first street on the left from Colosseum, coming into a pleasantly quiet net of small streets.

“Come on, this way,” James poked his chin on a small passage, taking Q’s hand.

He let Q go first and enter a quiet patio that contained a spectacular amount of restaurants. A small space accommodated four typical Italian taverns, each at one wall of the houses. They occupied the patio with huge, white sunshades, giving needed privacy together with garlands of wild vine.

“Here,”Bond led him to one of the tables, moving the chair for Q. “I hoped that this place still exists.”

“It’s… Amazing,” Q admitted, looking around with admiration as he sat slowly. “How do you know it?”

“I… Thank you,” Bond started but the waitress stopped him, giving them cards.

“Something to drink first?” he asked with well heard Italian accent, looking between them.

“Two Aperol Spritz, please,” Bond ordered, not taking his eyes off of Q and then when the waitress disappeared, he added fast. “It was when I was stationing here with my unit. We were located in the mountains but I visit Verona a lot, already working for government, gathering some intelligence.”

“How old were you then?” Q asked with curiosity.

“Twenty four…” Bond wondered. “Maybe twenty five.”

“I bet all Italian women were crazy about you,” Q snorted, resting back in the chair. “You know, blond, those blue eyes and so charming smile, flashing around with easy one-liners…”  

James leaned across the table with a sudden smile. “You really are jealous, aren’t you?”

Q didn’t hold Bond’s eyes this time. He quickly turned, feeling as his cheeks started to burn with hotness. He pretended to be finely interested in a couple sitting at the opposite side of patio, the only people that they shared the space with.

“I can try not to be, if you want,” he finally mumbled, barely at the limit of hearing. “It’s going to be hard since you’re so damn sexy, attracting everyone, but I’d try,” he pressed the last word through his teeth, still not looking at Bond.

“Q,” James started gently, suddenly touching him under the table with his feet.

It traveled up and down his calf, luring Q to turn his attention. The young man bite his lips, when to this small sign of affection joined a soft, really gentle touch of Bond’s finger that moved only at the rim of his hand lying on the table.

“Aden, look at me,” James requested with a voice that meant Q shouldn’t oppose.

He slowly looked back at him with a guilt playing in his eyes and a blush covering his cheeks.

“If only I could, I’d take you on that table in this bloody restaurant right now… Hell, you’re so gorgeous. Everywhere and every time,” he murmured, not able to tear his eyes off of Q. “I don’t know how all this is going to look like when we’ll be back at HQ but I can tell you one thing, I don’t want anyone. And I’m the one who should be afraid because I know I don’t deserve even one percent of it.”

Q opened his mouth to say that James did deserve him, in every way and every aspect but then the waitress appeared at their table, serving them their drinks.

“Now, let me dine you,” Bond added, taking from Q the last chance for explanation as he started to order an enormous amount of food.

Q couldn’t help by smile at that, forgetting what he wanted to say with the next sip of the alcohol. They changed the subject talking about James’ life when he was still outside MI6 and Q’s years at the university. They both were slowly discovering that even when they didn’t talk on the intercom about the work, planning or executing operations or the office stuff sex life, they still had a lot to share. They whispered low about their secrets and memories that were never told before to anyone. Bond’s foot never stopped brushing Q’s calf, his fingers reached for him from time to time, always carful to not draw too much attention. Two hours passed unnoticed.

Bond paid, giving the waiter a huge tip for not bothering them too much. Q smiled from above the rim of his wine glass, giving the man a trailing glance when James poked his jacket to check if his gun was still in a safe place.

“I should go,” he said but didn’t make any move.

“I’ll stay here for a few more minutes,” Q added, setting comfortably back in the chair. “I want to remember this place in the right way.”

Bond’s smile reached his eyes when he bent over the table to whisper, “If you like it that much, we can come back here. We can do it every year.”

“Really?” Q’s eyes suddenly lit up. “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Bond hummed, finally standing up. “We have an agreement then. Now, we only need to find that girl, kill a couple people and we’d be at home.”

“Simple as that,” Q snorted with a bit of sarcasm playing in his voice.

“Half an hour,” Bond said and not able to hold back his reaction, he leaned closer to Q, stealing a quick kiss from him.

“Be careful out there, 007,” Q murmured into man’s lips, reaching for another soft kiss.

“Yes, sir,” Bond huffed out words, brushing warm fingers over Q’s for the last time.

He turned with a wink, taking a narrow street at another side of the patio. Then he walked in the opposite direction from where they came from.

He didn’t remember when was the last time he was without someone in his ear during an operation. For the past year Q was with him during almost every task, turning on when his mission was reaching the critical point. When he was undercover in Bolivia, his only long term assignment after M’s death, Q contacted with him daily, keeping him company during endless hours of stakeouts. His voice sounded low and intimate and so unreal when Bond was hiding for days in the deepest forest. Now Bond felt almost as he was naked, walking alone, without phone or any possibility of contact. He was in many situations like that before, but back then he didn’t have anyone who was waiting for him to return back safely. That was something completely new, something he even didn’t consider when he was with Vesper.

For the past couple of sex loaded hours with Q, he didn’t have the time to wonder who he was going to juggle between his work and Q. In some way it was all united, Q understood him, worked with him on the same line but… Before risking his life was like some kind of sophisticated way of forgetting or running from his nightmares with some deeply hidden hope that one day his acting would shorten his meaningless existence. And of course he didn’t think about stopping killing or taking part in operation. He wouldn’t stop smelling like gunpowder and blood, but he didn’t want to smell like his own blood anymore.

Only when there would be any another choice, he thought suddenly, smiling wryly to his reflection in one of the shop displays. Before he turned into the next street, he took the gun from the holster, putting it behind his belt. Entering the main market square again, he reached his agreed spot. Bond stopped in front of the bank, just on the side of the Colosseum when his Omega showed him exactly four o’clock.

“As always on time,” he heard behind his back.

Bond turned slowly, instantly placing his hand on the gun.

“I try,” he said, keeping his voice light.

The woman was around his age, still very attractive. Waves of dark hair embraced her tanned face. Her big, dark eyes scrutinize him slowly while an ironic smile played at her full lips. She came closer slowly, shaking her head with mocked disbelieve.

“I wouldn’t believe a living soul that we’re going to meet again.”

He let go of the gun, putting his hands in to jacket’s pockets. Closing his fingers around the short knife in one of them he put on his most charming smile.

“Let’s walk,” he proposed, poking his chin at the opposite direction where he left Q.

She came along, shrugging lightly and smiling even more. Her tall body seemed as strong as he remembered, even after so many years. And he had his fair share of using it a couple of times, both during operations and in bed. In that way he knew what she was capable to do and because of that, he didn’t want her to know Q in person.

“Small troubles?” She asked chatty. “Or have you lost your passport during practicing some extreme water sports?”

“You know I like troubles,” he said low, leading them out of the old town area. “We can safely say that French people aren’t the nicest. And I’m sorry for the short notice and poor photos’ quality but I need to move pretty quickly.”

“Ah, so my plans of bringing back our memories came to nothing, then?”

“I’m afraid that was never a part of this agreement,” Bond said with a bold smile, stopping suddenly under the tunnel, a passage to the other side of the city.

Q checked this place for him before they left Salo and it seemed like a blind spot on Verona’s map without any camera that could catch Bond entering the passage or leaving it. She stepped with him into the shadow, taking two passports out of her inside pocket.

“Maybe it’s because of this sweet, little thing you got yourself?” She asked curiosity, waving the documents in the air as she quirked up an eyebrow up at him.

“Who? That kid?” Bond snorted a short laugh. “He’s just work but I need to admit that your idea doesn’t lack appeal.”

She passed him the passports, not taking her carful gaze off of him. Tilting her head, she only smiled more, adding “You really are a good liar, James.”

Bond’s smile faded out in a friction of second, when his face suddenly becomes blunt, his eyes reflected coldness. He moved closer to her, sensing the odd notes playing in her tone and waited for her next move.

“I’m telling you this just for old times' sake,” she continued with the same calm tone, “Take this passport and get out of here. This kid is a lost cause.”

“Funny, you should know by now that I’m pretty fond of lost causes,” he whispered very quietly, his voice growled low in the empty space.

Alarmed by his tone, she tried to move back but James was faster. The passports dropped on the ground when Bond reached for her. Before she drew the gun hidden under her jacket, Bond swiftly grabbed her hands and swung them behind her back. In one, smooth motion he pushed her on the wall, blocking her. Knowing Bond, she even didn’t try to struggle and just breathed heavily with her cheek pressed to the cold stone.

“Such a passion for someone who is only work related,” she huffed out a short laugh.

Bond looked around, checking if they were spotted by someone, but the street was empty and the shadow of the tunnel covered them completely, leaving them unseen.

“Talk,” he hissed to her ear, pushing her harder. “What do you know?”

“Better ask me what I don’t,” she laughed out loud but her voice broke suddenly when she felt a blade pointing just right at her right kidney. She purred low, closing her eyes when she added, “Now that’s just like the old times.”

“I’ll show you how new times would look like if you would tell me what you know,” he said very slowly, straining every word through his teeth.

“I always knew retirement wouldn’t be my thing and the British government isn’t paying properly to people that give their whole life to protect country that they never live in…”

“To the point,” he growled, pushing the knife.

“I needed money,” she whispered. “And I thought that it’d be a shame to sell someone who had given out Mathias so easily. You know that he was my friend? That we had stationed together in Bolivia? That he taught me everything? Now how do you feel, losing someone so close?”

Bond felt like his already rushing blood hit his temple. He saw black for a short moment, losing his breath. That was just a friction of second but it gave her time. The women felt James’ grip loosen on her so she just moved swiftly, shooting her head back with full power and hitting James. 

It took him longer to take a grip on his emotions and thoughts when the pain spread in his head. She reached for her gun during the seconds of his hesitation but she didn’t have time to shoot when the agent blocked her hand, drawing a blow. She managed to jump back, running from the blade that cut through the air but she let go of the gun. It fell on the pavement with metallic noise in the same time as Bond blocked her kick, reached out again to push her on the wall. This time he strained her with his elbow pressed to her throat and knife poked under her ribs. His legs spared her tights, when James pushed her to the stone with full force.

“Now we’re going to start from the begging,” Bond said with calm voice.  “If you would move, I’m going to push that knife all the way to your right lung and then I’ll drive it out very slowly so you’ll bleed on that pavement for long minutes, dying very painfully.”

“Or?” She breathed out, coughing with blood that run from her caught lips. “I know you wouldn’t let me go.”

“Tell the truth and try me,” He said low, holding her gaze. “What have you done with Aden?”

She smiled coldly, whispering “You think that only MI6 know how to use CCTV? I had an eye on you since you parked that nice Aston. I watched you how you took the kid to that little, lovely restaurant that I took you all those years ago.”

Bond growled with impatience, drawing the knife this time into the softness of her skin, tearing tears of blood that quickly drenched her white t-shirt. She hissed, biting her lips as the sudden pain made her flinched under his body.

“What have you done to Aden?” He slowly reaped the question.

“I sold him to White,” she exclaim with a next heavy breath. “He put his and your head on the market, paying millions to anyone who would catch you alive. Your Aden is nothing to me but I couldn’t do this to you and I know you remember me…” she stated more than asked, trying to smile.

Bond’s face was like a mask when he looked at her silently for a longer moment. His eyes were empty, coldly blue, reflecting with some strange steadiness in the darkness of the tunnel.

“Where is he?” he only hissed, low and dangerously steady.

“My people are taking him to Venice,” she cried out under the pressure of his arm that pushed at her throat painfully. “White has a place there, Calle del il Strazze, in renovating house,” she gaped, trying to get more air. “Bond, you can’t kill me, you must feel some-“

Bond pushed the knife, not even letting her words to resound in the air. He pressed the blade to the end, strong and quickly tearing her flesh and closing her mouth with the other hand.

He didn’t look at her when she passed out on his arm as he pulled out the knife. Letting her body to slum slowly on the pavement, he only looked around to check if he was still alone. Then he crouched near the women, cleaning the knife in her clothes and quickly going through her pockets to get the spear ammunition.

“You weren’t wrong. I do feel,” Bond said quietly, putting her gun to his holster and collecting the passports from the ground. “Just not for you,” he added, pushing her body under the wall to hide it completely in the shadow.

He rushed to the parking lot; trying to hold onto a thought that there was still a chance Q would be alive when he would get him back. Because he would get him back. Bond didn’t have plans to lose another loved person in the waters of Venetian lagoon.

 


	19. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks to Jess. She is one amazing human being and she just beted the whole story :)

He couldn’t see. He was blindfolded. The fabric was not only covering his eyes, but it stuck to his face, dumb and musty in taste when it got to his mouth with every heavy breath. He felt on his tongue his own sweat too. It gathered under the cover, rolling with heavy drops at the back of his neck and under the sweater. The wool quickly drenched with it, sticking to his body. His skin ached in all places that the fabric pressed almost painfully against him. And he still couldn’t hear much. Or maybe the place was just so silent. Since he woke up, he only sensed some annoying noise of running water. It was close and far at the same time. It was like just under him, somewhere outside or maybe inside the wall. He tried so hard to catch this noise, to localize it but every time he was close enough, the note stopped, leaving him with nothing. And he was so thirsty. God, he would do anything for just a drop of water. The wall behind him was dumb and cold but it wasn’t enough. He was hot and sweaty and so damn thirsty that he would drink blood if he only could. But his own blood was almost boiling. He felt a strange fever all over his body, running through him with waves of shiver.

The rest of his senses or more like the ability to understand was coming back to him slowly. He was even more annoyed by that. Something made him lazy, his moves were lingering. His hands were tight behind his back; he felt that the rope already cut his skin. Maybe because he was struggling or maybe because he had laid here for so long.

How long was he here? How did he get here? He didn’t remember… Or maybe he did? Or maybe this was just a dream. A really bad and really realistic dream but he would wake up every moment; he would roll on the other side hiding in James’ arms… These big and warm arms that would smooth him and let him sleep again, peacefully and calm this time.

Q closed his eyes, feeling pain with every move. His lids were heavy, almost impossible to hold open. And the pain was real. It spread in his body with stronger waves, making him crawl at the ground with an unexpected moan that escaped his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he heard somewhere close. “It’ll get better within next hour.”

The voice belonged to a woman, or more a girl. It was soft and calm. He felt her movements when she bent over him. There was a shadow that covered him suddenly, making him flinch with a quick, unwanted reaction. She touched his face through the cover and then pulled the fabric from his head.

Q crawled more on the floor, wanting to run from the sudden light that blinded him for a moment. His eyes hurt when he tried to open them again, burning with every move but after few moments he could see an outline of her face. As he was slowly recognizing her features, the memories were coming back to him piece by piece…

He watched James leaving the patio, turning to him for the last time with a smile. Then the man disappeared behind the corner and Q was left in a complete silence. The couple that they share the restaurant with must left, because he was alone. And it was so strange that suddenly the patio was indifferent, stuck in the time, without movement or a single sound. In this moment he felt strange. He felt observed.

He started to look around, checking cameras for the obvious sigh of being tailed. And there it was. They were turn on him. Every single device was turned in his direction, moving when he moved to catch him from every angle.

He couldn’t let Bond meet that woman. He knew that they shouldn’t rely on her. He knew that something would go wrong. He moved but he wasn’t able to make even one step. He felt sharp sting and then everything went black.

He still didn’t know where he was or how he got here. He must be under some drug because he still felt like his body didn’t belonged to him, now going from hot to cold. He tried to keep his eyes open, evaluating the surroundings. He lay on a hard ground, covered with dust and dirt that mixed with his blood on his hands. He felt that the sand rubbed into his open skin and under robs. It was bloody painful but it kept him grounded.

Windows were boarded up, not letting the light in but some tiny rays were pressing through it, giving him just details of the whole place. The room was big but it looked like being still under construction.  It was an old place. It smelled like mold, drenched with water. Shabby walls covered with layers of dirt and old, dumb wallpaper surrendered him from every site.

The girl sat back comfortably on the chair, resting her legs on the table, the only furniture in the whole room. She focused her attention on the phone that highlighted her face with a cold glow. She looked even younger than in the restaurant. She was twenty top, with red hair and almost white face. Her fingers were fast on the screen, only brushing it when she was typing something.

Q could hear a really gentle sound of pressed buttons. He closed his eyes and tried to focus only on these subtle notes. He had to switch of his senses, caught off from the pain and force his brain to start processing as it always did. And after a long moment of noise humming in his head he could recognize different scale of each letter.

“He is awake, call Mr. White,” she typed. “Do you have Bond?”

Q exhaled the air with relief. They didn’t get to James. God, he wasn’t so grateful in his entire life. And of course they didn’t get him. It was James Bond, the famous 007, he thought about. How he could ever consider that Bond would let someone to take him down that easily?

He wanted to think that James wouldn’t come for him. Q wanted him safe. Far from here, far from him. But at the same time he wished the agent would save him. Q wanted to see him again, to touch him again. Even when he knew that he was again the main reason why everything went wrong. Even when Q thought he wasn’t worth of savi—

Suddenly his thoughts were cut off when he rotated his hands and felt a familiar shape under his fingers. He could reach only with his fingertips to the cold steel of his watch.

Idiots, he thought. They took his shoes and belt from him but they forgot about this.

A sudden smile slowly spread on his lips when he pressed two buttons on the watch’s side, pushing them with the right patter. Whoever kidnapped him didn’t have slightest idea that a radio transmitter was a better fit for Rolex than shoes’ heels.

*

Bond drove like crazy. He didn’t stop at any light, cutting every curve and every crossing. He knew he didn’t have much time. It passed at least one and a half hours since he left Q. He was sure that White had to have him by now.

Christ, how he could be so stupid?! How did he not see it coming? He hadn’t done his job properly and now Q was suffering from his mistakes. If he would have only got White… If he would have killed him when he had the chance, all this would have never happen. Now history was repeating itself. Someone who he loved could die because of him. Q could die in this damn city.

Bond hated that place. He wanted to raze it to the ground. And he would do it if that meant he would get Q back.

He entered Venetian waters on a stolen boat, riding it with a furious speed. Using the navigation installed in the cockpit, he found the right route easily. The building was situated inside the city so he turned from the Grand Canal and tacked between gondolas.

People were screaming at him when he infuriated the waters of the tight canals. He didn’t care. He even didn’t hear them. He was focused only on one thing. He needed to safe Q. For whatever price, Q would not die in this city.

Clinching hands on the steering well, he moved it sharply right. The whole motorboat turned swiftly, leading him to the tiny canal. The left side of the boat hit the bank with full force, crashing when Bond jumped from it and run the narrow path, along buildings.

He was close to Calle del il Straze. He remembered this place exactly. It was the same. This was the fucking same building where Vesper died. White was laughing at his face.

When he reached it, he saw that the building was elevated again, held by massive brackets that attached it to the other tenant houses. All windows were boarded up and the entry was guarded by impressive, old lock set in a new wooden door.

He hid in the shadow of the opposite building, taking few moments to think over the situation. He got on him Walther and PA-36 that belong to Nasha, sixteen shots together and a knife. Not nearly enough. He suspected that White had at least ten people with him. If the ones that came for them in Cannes also belong to his small, private army, Bond had to face mercenaries equipped with tons of ammunition and heavy guns. To save Q he had to come close, the closest he could… And for that, he could think of only one solution.

Bond decided in seconds. Then he crushed the door of the house that stood next and run on the spiral staircase, reaching the roof. Breaking through the skylight, he entered the rooftop, observing the building that belonged to White. There were two people there, patrolling the front side, facing Grand Canal.

“Idiots,” he growled as he prepared to jump.

He fell at the other building roof with a soft sound, rolling on the ground to mute noises. Hiding behind the chimney, Bond waited for a few long moments for the man to come closer when in the next second he took them with two clean shots.

“Now we’re going to have fun,” he said calmly, waiting for others guards to be attracted by the noise of shots.

*

Q was woken up again. The girl threw a whole bucket of water at him. He greedily drank every drop that fell from his hair while two men seated him on a chair. They tied him anew, clutching his hands with plastic clips. The band cut into his wounds, blood ran on his palms and through his fingers, dripping heavily on the dirty floor, mixing with dust. He felt its stickiness between his fingertips when he checked how much loose space he had. There was almost none, the plastic was tight around him but he could still relocate his thumbs and maybe get some additional space to maneuver his hand.

He clinched his jaw, preparing for a new wave of pain when he heard a new voice sounding somewhere close in the room. 

“So this is famous Aden Lynd?”

Q looked up, barely able to hold his head straight. The view was a blur of colors before he managed to get use to the lights again. Finally he met the gaze of an older man.

He rested casually on the door’s frame, calm and composed. Q could read from a smirk written all over his wrinkled face like an open book. It said ‘I win’ and ‘I’d be the one who destroy you’.

Everything about him was well measured, starting from perfectly caught and probably expansive suit to the masque of amusement formed on his face. He was slowly estimating Q with his bright, clever eyes that appeared much younger than his body. And from that point Q knew. He met Mr. White. He met the man responsible for his sister’s death, one of Quantum’s members. Q read about him in Bond’s papers. He was the only one that managed to escape when the whole group was razed to the ground by MI6, CIA and Interpol. And Q suspected that if White managed to hide for so many years, he was a dangerous man, drained from emotions, cold and brute. Yousef or maybe even Silva was nothing compared to him. They were still led by their revenge. This man… This man was all about cold calculation. White only respected a profit.

The man smiled almost friendly when Q studied his face for a longer moment. “I’m sorry we had to treat you in this way,” he said, making a move with his hand to show the surrounding while he entered the room. “I didn’t want this situation to become so dramatic.”

“Dramatic,” Q murmured, forcing his throat to make sounds. His voice was rough and barely audible when he added, “So blunt for someone who wanted to get to MI6’s quartermaster.”

“We’re a little proud snob, aren’t we?” The man asked as he walked closer and suddenly pulled his hair, tearing his head back and making Q sigh with pain before he was able to hold his reactions.

Q started to cough, choke with the air and his own saliva when the man held him thigh, looking carefully into his eyes. “Do you think you’re still so valuable?”

“You still don’t know where Silva’s computer is,” Q managed to mumbled.

He saw as man’s eyes widened for a friction of second, giving him a proof that he hit the right button but the surprise disappeared quickly, being replaced by another sly smile. The man let go of his hair, drying his hands in a handkerchief. His face changed with disgust when he handed dirty piece of fabric to one of his men. He brought the free chair closer to Q, sitting opposite.

“You know a lot, I must admit. I couldn’t count on less from someone like you,” he said calmly, sitting back and crossing his legs comfortably. The smile never left his face, when he added, “But you don’t know everything, I’m afraid. And being just an honest businessman, I’m going to lay out the case for you, tell you why it’s important for me, what is the price and you… You’d tell me what your price is and then if we’d meet somewhere half the way, we would call it a deal. What you’d say for that?”

“Did you do the same with my sister?” Q asked instead of answering, seeing as another quick hint of surprise passed White’s face, changing it just for a moment.

“I’m impressed,” he nodded with some soundless agreement. “You know me. Does that means I’m even more famous than I thought?”

“Or that your people are a bunch of idiots,” Q smirked, putting into that gesture all the strength left in him.

“Who?” White frowned, studding his face carefully. “Tell me who?”

“Your clever girl?” Q proposed, looking over White’s shoulder at the girl that now rested on the wall, near the door. “She might have broken simple lines of my code and track us down with just a reverse GPRS signal but she should be more careful when she types a massage with her keys’ tune on.”

“Is that so?” White asked slowly, watching Q with a real approbation.

He moved his gaze on one of his man standing behind Q’s back and nodded shortly. Q heard a clench of the gun and in the next second the girl was pushed on the wall by three shots that were caught through her fragile body. She slump to the ground slowly, leaving on the yellowish, old wallpaper vivid marks of her blood.

White looked shortly over his shoulder, sighing with a mocked dissatisfaction.

“Veronica wanted too much money anyway,” he said, looking back at Q. “You’d work for free.”

Q swallowed hard, feeling as his throat hurt even more, dried from the sudden shock. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of the girl. Her suddenly empty eyes stacked on him, watching him with some dreadful expression of fear. It locked on her face, frozen on her half opened lips that were now stained with blood slowly dropping on the floor from her half opened mouth.

He heard his own fast, panicked heart stammer in his chest. His body was shaking, uncontrolled shiver run through his spine when he dropped his gaze, trying to avoid the girl’s eyes. Q knew he had to be stronger. He had to think only about himself right now. He should feel sorry for her. She would probably kill him without a blink of an eye if she would have such an order. He had to be composed, focused on thinking… This was what he was best at so he needed to think and to analyze. He needed to hold on. At least till Bond came for him. Just a little longer.

“What makes you think that I will work for you?” he said finally, rising his gaze again on White.

“This computer,” the man started, leaning to him closer. “It’s not only a way of making more money, not only a way to rule the world and its secrets… You see, it all started a long time ago when your sister didn’t take the right decisions. Because of her and her stupid affair, I paid not only with my resources but with my name. Now it’s the time for you to take more responsible decisions.”

“You were the Quantum?” Q guessed, watching as the man stood up and slowly come to one of the windows. “You weren’t a part of it, you ruled it?”

“The rest was just a smokescreen,” White admitted. “I was supposed to have the whole world at my feet when Bond came in and made from my plans his battle field of revenge. You know how hard is to go back on the top, to make a name again?”

“You want that computer to become famous?” Q asked. “You don’t want to sell information, you want to use them?”

“Yes, I want to be the one who pull strings again,” White confirmed, turning to Q. “And you’d be the one who would decode it for me.”

“I suppose this is the part when I should ask how?” Q stated, following every man’s move with his tired eyes.

White slowly sat on the chair again and took out a gold cigarette case. Fairing off a black cigarette that smelled almost like chocolate, he looked through the smoke at Q.

“Bond met with Nasha back at Verona. She sold you out. I think she is dead by now and Bond is coming here. I doubted you had much time to equip yourself with proper guns and ammunition since that little event with Yousef so I assume he would be almost harmless… And as he would do anything to have you back, he is going to bring the laptop to me,” words tip off man’s tongue easily. He took a deep drag of his cigarette before he continued “And because you want him safe, you’d do what I say.”

“Bond is just an operative,” Q said low, looking at White from under the hair that felt on his temple. His eyes were almost empty when he added, “He is nothing special to me.”

“Nice try kid. Really nice try,” White huffed out a laugh. “But you Lynds… You can’t keep your hands off of him and that’s just perfect for me. Veronica here,” the man shoved his hand at the death girl. “She pulled me enough evidence to think that you two have already become quite close, working together all the time, kissing in the hotel lobby…”

“Sometime you have to-“ Q tried to interrupted him but he didn’t have a chance to finish.

One of White’s men pulled him strongly back, holding by his tied hands. Wires caught his wrist deeper, drawing more blood. Q hissed, closing his eyes to hold the wave of pain and not to give satisfaction to this man.

“I wanted Bond dead because I knew that this was the only way to lure you out of MI6, out of London but I discovered quickly that he would be better as a living bait. My people saved him from the explosion. Yousef located in a place that was still under my influences, lead both of you a marry dance. He only fucked up the case when his emotions carried him away, in Cannes. He wanted Bond, he wanted him to pay but you know how that finished, Mr. Lynd?” White explained to him slowly, crushing Q’s chin in his fingers to force him to look up.  “You’re the only one who can decode this computer so they keep you there, on the leash. Now I’m unleashing you. And if you-“ he started but his voice suddenly broke when they heard a sound of shot coming from upstairs.

“You two,” White turn to his people. “Get him. Get him alive,” he added, standing up and taking his own gun from under his jacket.

He looked down at Q, smiling surprisingly bright.

“You’d have time to make your choice. You decode the computer or Bond would join sweet Veronica, bleeding out in front of you,” he added, reloading the gun.

Two guards rushed on the stairs when White stood behind Q, pointing his gun at the young man’s head.

 

 

 


	20. Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beted by amazing [Jess](http://hecallsmediamonds.tumblr.com/)

Bond finished off ammunition somewhere with the sixth guy. He killed one with a head shot when the man came up the stairs on the roof. Then two others wanted to cut off his way on the entrance to the building, closing him between the corner of the staircase and the half floor. The sixth one met him in the middle of provisional stairs, where the missing stone steps were completed with wood. His last shot caught through the guy’s arm and darted in the construction, breaking the pillar in two. The whole staircase trembled when the man collapsed on the balustrade. Holding on the wooden reeling, he fell down, taking the whole construction with him.

Bond jumped in the last second, feeling on the rim of the stone step. He balanced for a moment, holding to the rope that left from the construction. When he finally managed to stabilized, he heard steps of heavy, military boots, resounding on the spiral staircase.

He knew that it was the right time to pull his act. When two more guards came from downstairs, he took the knife, throwing himself at the first one that came behind from the corner. His hand made the right move but it was deliberately slow and the man had time to block his blow, twisting his arm and pushing Bond on the wall. In the rush, he didn’t see how the knife was switch to Bond’s free hand and hidden in the sleeve with a quick, canny motion.

“One move and I’m going to make a whole in your head,” the guy growled close to his ear, tiding his hands with plastic band.

“No, you won’t,” Bond murmured, smiling before the guy turned him and pushed down the stairs.

They stopped at the first floor, the most destroyed part of the building. Bond saw stains of weather, the line on the wall on the level were the construction settled in the Venetian Canal, staying there for year.

All here was still dumb, stinking with the mold and dirt. Bond remembered this odor very well. Vesper smelled like that when he gave back her body to the medics. He was drenched in it for days. He felt it in his hair, deep in his skin. Now he couldn’t let that smell to take over Q’s body.

And Q… God, he finally saw Q. He was sitting on the chair in the middle of the room. He was white from cold, from tiredness. His lips were crimson red, bleeding. His eyes were almost empty but when he saw Bond, they suddenly lit up and then quickly changed with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Bond’s face didn’t change even for a fraction of second when he quickly estimated White, seeing the pointed gun. He fallowed the man’s gaze to see girl’s body lying just under his feet. She must not have been dead for long, the blood dropping from her lips was fresh and her eyes were still glossy.

She was a perfect example of what White was. He was a monster, not different from any other scum that Bond had to deal with and yet there was this thing about him that made someone like Bond frightened. White wasn’t insane, he wasn’t focused on revenge. He didn’t regret anything and anyone. He was all about calculation of losses and profits. White had a plan and he would do anything to conduct it.

Then again… White was like Bond in many ways. Maybe that’s way the agent feared so much for Q’s life? He knew exactly what the man was planning. He knew that there was no place in White plans for redundant, lose ends…

Bond observed two guards that stood on each of his side, locating their guns. They had KBK-AK and Glock each, probably a ton of spare ammo. He had to be quick if he wanted to take over the satiation. And he just had to wait for the right moment…

Locking his gaze on Q again, he slowly and almost invisibly shrugged, dropping the knife from his jacket’s sleeve.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. There was a traffic jam at the canal,” he said carefree, taking one step back so the men wouldn’t see the moves of his hands.

He saw that Q caught the gesture right. He had to read something from his face because there was again this sudden light of hope brightening his eyes.

White only adjusts the hold of his gun, bringing it closer to the young man’s head. “Let’s skip the small talk. I need something, you need him. Do we have the deal?”

“I’m not going to tell you were Silva’s computer is,” James said firmly. “And don’t tell me you’re going to kill him if I wouldn’t do that. I know you need him.”

“Of course I’m not going to kill him,” White huffed out a laugh. “But… It would be a shame if he’d lose some precious parts, isn’t it?”

The barrel of the gun slides on Q’s neck, making him visibly flinch. White’s amusement grew with that as he pointed with the gun on Q’s fingers.

“He’s going to need that so maybe I’ll shoot his feet?” White looked at Bond quickly with a cold smile. “You know that it would be just a bloody pulp and he wouldn’t be able to walk again. Do you want that?”

Bond opened his mouth to say something, to agree on anything. He wanted to put his plan in motion but Q was faster.

“James, don’t” he interrupted him, whispering with his voice harsh. “It isn’t worth it,” he added calmly, looking at Bond with full attention.

“My left arm, under the scarf,” Bond said instead, locking his gaze on Q. “There is a micro sensor with information about the location.”

“What a sacrifice! I like it,” White sighed, not holding his amusement and turned to one of his man, “Cut it out.”

Q made a move like he wanted to protest but White held him in place, setting him back on the chair. Bond shook his head almost invisibly, wanting to give Q something, anything to show Q that he should just trust him.

He felt the move on his side, knowing that any minute he could be dead but Q would be safe and alive. And yes… If that required sacrificing, then so be it. Bond couldn’t let the only person he cared about die. He couldn’t let Aden follow his sister’s footsteps. Not anymore.

When he felt a touch on his arm, he moved. His reaction was quick, perfect this time. He held the guy’s wrist, twisting it so swiftly that the man dropped the knife. Using consternation of the other guard, James reached for the Glock from the guy’s holster, shooting him from the back. Then he used him as a shield, predicting the next shot. He pushed the dead man, shooting at the same time and hitting the target. The other body didn’t even slump on the floor when he turned to White, pointing the gun at him.

The room suddenly became quiet. Everything went completely still. Bond heard his own fast breath, his heavily pounding heart. God, it seemed that he even heard Q’s one.

White was like frozen. Not surprised, just frozen with anticipation, calculating his risk. And suddenly Bond saw how his eyes changed. They flicked to the entrance then on Bond again. He made up his mind; hold the gun higher, aiming at James instead of Q.

In the same time Q jumped from the chair, drawn by some instinct. He crossed the fire line when White pulled the trigger. Bond held from shooting in the last second, seeing how Q slid on the floor in front of him.

White fired in the series but Bond’s only thought was to protect Q. He jumped to shield him with his own body, shooting only to cover their backs. His bullets even didn’t graze White when the man ran to the entrance, disappearing on the staircase.

If it would have been during any other operation, Bond would have gone after him. He would chase White throughout Venice until he would get him and kill him with a shot straight between his eyes. But not this time. Not now.

Now he thought only about Q. He tore the young man’s sweater with his shaking hands. He got to the wound, seeing the hole after the bullet made Q’s right arm bleed with waves of fresh blood. Q’s face was completely faded; his lips suddenly become rigid, lifeless… He was going into shock and Bond knew that if Q wouldn’t get into the hospital in minutes, he would not make it.

“You had to be conscious,” Bond whispered, tearing his t-shirt in stripes and tiding it around Q’s wound to control the bleeding.

He patted Q’s cheeks lightly, holding his cold face in his hands. “You hear me? Q, please… Aden?” Bond cried out, reaping the words like a mantra. “Aden, wake up. For fucking sake, wake bloody up.”

Seeing no reaction, Bond rubbed Q’s face with his warm hands, feeling like his own heart might stop in his chest. He felt the pain. It electrified him, paralyzed more and more, with every long second that Q wasn’t opening his eyes.

Q’s breath was faint. Bond felt it only gently on his cheek when he bent down, whispering more panicked words.

“No Aden,” he growled with fear trembling in his voice. “You can’t... You hear me? Don’t you dare die on me.”

Bond brought Q closer, taking his whole body into his arms. His hands wrapped tighter around Q’ waist, on his back, James’ fingers tangled in his hair, holding it close to his own face, kissing Q’s cold lips with more disparate words, “It should be me...”

“No,” he felt more than heard when Q’s mouth moved on his. “You don’t,” Q added harsh, opening his eyes slightly, enough for Bond to see some far reminiscence of relief that brightened them up.

“Just hold on,” James whispered, holding Q up. “Hold on for me.”

Q only smiled absently, flinching his arms when another sudden and familiar sound echoed from the above. Helicopters, Bond thought with a fear that stopped his movement for a moment. 

“MI6,” Q recognized, barely huffing out words. He brought his hand up, resting it on James’ chest, adding shakily, “Radio.”

Only then Bond saw Q’s watch illuminating with subtle waves of blue light.  Against all odds, after almost ten years, Vesper managed to save him again. She saved _them_.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it it, the last one... the chapter that is posted almost 2 years after I started to write the story. I can't even think about things that happened during this time but I'm sure of one - I totally fell in love with those characters and I got addicted to them, and that didn't change a bit. And as this is the end of this story, I am sure it's just the beginning of something new, because I could not live a single day without them :)
> 
> I would thank all of you so so sooo for sticking around, reading the story, waiting for an updated or even to read it in one piece. All your kudos, comments and presence mean the wold to me, it keeps me going with my writing and with life in general, it gives me the believe that I do it this life something that matters for someone, so yeah, THANK YOU ALL!
> 
> I hope you would like this ending (because for me it was the only way all this could end) :D
> 
> oxoxoxox
> 
> Beted by amazing [Jess](http://hecallsmediamonds.tumblr.com/)

Soft light was glowing, sneaking through high windows and diffusing on the curtains to fill the inside with just a warm luminosity. It was only early morning, the air still smelled of rain but summer was already somewhere in the atmosphere. The begging of June surprised everyone with high temperatures and long sunny hours. London hadn’t have weather like that for years.

With that everything seemed easy. Everything suddenly became distant and almost forgotten. Especially now, when Bond could stay in bed for long hours, not rushing. He could just reach and have everything he wanted and everything he had ever needed. He could trap Aden under his body, showing him what meant to be only his… To be his handler, his friend and his lover.

A lover… Bond made a low sound of apparition at the back of his throat. He liked it. God, no… He loved it. He loved how he could just be here, be near and kiss Aden’s back with small, soft and endless kisses. He could get lost in this. He wanted to get lost in this body. He traced lines of the slender back with his lips, taking his time. Aden sighed with pleasure, lazily arching under him to give Bond more space to kiss. James only smiled into his skin, following this soundless request. Hovering over the younger man, he leaned up to run his lips on the fresh scar, murmuring something really quiet.

It has been a moth since they came back from Venice. And it wasn’t the easiest time. From the beginning they had to defy all the mess they’ve made with their little escapade. Even Aden being already fully conscious by the time they landed in London, didn’t skip Mallory’s reprimand. All in all, he was sent to the hospital with suspension from his position in Q-Branch when Bond got a dismissal from field work and an order to not step aside from Aden’s bed side till the responsible party would be apprehended. But the responsible party vanished. White disappeared once again, scattering in heavy air of the Venetian Lagoon and even Aden wasn’t able to trace him.

Bond suspected that White’s escape became something like a matter of honor to his Quartermaster. Aden asked for his laptop the first thing he woke up after the surgery but Mallory’s orders put him out of business for two full weeks of recovery. James let him run his fingers on the keyboard only when he transported Aden to his own flat, kissing him hungrily first thing when they crossed doorsteps. Everything for security reasons, of course.

And Bond’s plan was to finally have some real downtime. He wanted to let Aden rest, slowly entering to the world that seemed like a completely different place when then they came back to London. Even when their future looked slightly brighter, all the sudden changes frightened even him, a man who used to swift adjustments and unexpected developments.

James thought that Mallory agreed on this arrangement only because he saw more advantages coming from them being a team that worked for MI6 rather than against it. And yes, during one of many reports Bond had to give after he was back in HQ, he might slip a word about going astray again if his boss wouldn’t follow the theory of Bond being the most reasonable solution in keeping Aden safe. In that way Aden stayed at Bond’s flat for all the recovery process.

They were still learning how to live together. They were still transforming. They tried to work out and join their difficult lives together. And from that point this month was also hard. Bond didn’t know how he felt without any future prospect of a field work. He still couldn’t decide. But then there were those long nights when even Aden was going to seep before him. Bond lay in his bed that was theirs now… And he looked at the peacefully sleeping man, burned in the sheets, warm slender body and soft skin. And he knew that those few seconds when he thought that he lost Aden were the worst in his life… It was worse then Vesper’s death or M’s… Or even his parents.  He knew he wanted to be with Aden and make this time as long as it only could be.

So yeah, maybe he decided already, he thought with a smile. Pressing the last gentle kiss on the nape of Aden’s neck, he leaned to his ear.

“I need to do something and then I’ll be back,” he whispered, tracing his lips on the sensitive earlobe and feeling the shiver of anticipation that run through Aden’s body.

“What could be more important than my lips on your cock right now?” Aden smirked, for a moment hiding his face in the pillow, bearing more skin of his shoulders for Bond to kiss.

“Really quick,” Bond started, leaving a soundly peck on the small of man’s neck and following with more as he murmured. “Short, harmless and really not that important e-mail.”

“Are you keeping Moneypenny posted on our love life? Aden huffed out a laugh. “And if it’s not that important then why now?” He added with a frustrated moan when Bond move up.

“There’s a deadline on it,” Bond said, slapping Aden’s ass as he slid from the bed, went to his desk to turn on his computer.

Aden turned on his back adding to this one more dramatic sigh. “I’m having a deadline down there as well.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware of the fact that yours never burst up before the right time,” James sent him a sly smile, winking.

Aden only shook his head with a mocking disappointment, biting his lips to not to laugh out loud. He leaned comfortably on the bed, resting his hand under his head, he adjusted the position to have a better view of his man.

God, his man… Only thinking about that sent a jolt down his body of such a strong pleasure that he could barely hold on. Bond was sitting naked on the big, leather chair. His tanned skin was bathed in the morning light, when the sun was sliding on his smooth lines of muscles and on the track of his scarves. Aden was almost jealous of it. He wanted to have his hands on Bond all the time, he didn’t what to share. He didn’t even know what to think about what his life would look like when they both would be back at work, when Bond would get his another assignment that only God would know what and where.

And he knew, okay? He knew with whom he was going to share his life. He fell in love with an operating agent, a double-oh, an assassin… He didn’t what to change that. He didn’t want to change James. He was just scared as shit that he could lose him. Aden didn’t know what he would do to himself if he would lose another person he loved and only for that reason… For that awfully selfish reason he wanted to always have Bond near.

He looked at Bond typing fast, thinking how much he didn’t want that week to finish. Even if they had occasional fights over some silly things like his eating habits or Bond’s obsession about Starbuck’s coffee, he still didn’t want this time to be over. He wanted to stay in James’ flat forever.

“I really have no idea how long my deadline would stand for you,” Aden said finally, stretching in bed deliberately slow and with a low growl.

“Bliss,” Bond whispered, closing the lid of the laptop and stood up. Coming in slow steps, he added, “Absolute bliss.”

Aden answered with smile, instantly reaching for Bond when the man leaned against him. James pressed him into the mattress, hiding his face in the crook of Aden’s neck to inhale his scent like they hadn’t part not minutes ago but ages.

“I need to ask you something before we can proceed,” Bond said, resting on his arm beside Aden.

“It’s a little bit too late for serious question, don’t you think?”

Bond smirked, taking Aden’s face in his hand. Smoothing his warm cheek, he said with an intimate voice, “Are you going to feel uncomfortable if I’d be in the office more often?”

“Maybe I’ll manage,” the young man answered trying to sound carefree but he couldn’t hold a smile that already spread his lips. He locked his gaze on Bond’s blue eyes, trying to read from them as he added, “Oh, just tell me already, you treacherous bastard!”

Bond laughed out loud, leaning to Aden’s ear. He lowered his voice to conspiratorial whisper, saying “I took over Mallory’s proposition of becoming an agent in charge of planning operations for one year contract.”

“You’ll be at the office all the time, with normal hours? For one year?” Aden asked shakily, almost seating at bed with sudden excitement.

“I wouldn’t say that this position goes with normal hours, but yes, I would be in the HQ almost all the time and maybe even more then for a year if we like this solution,” Bond explained with a wild smile playing on his lips. “But the other question is if you’d like to plan and plot operations with me during these office hours and to have more of that dirty, amazing sex while living here?”

Aden nodded his head with a silent agreement as he leaned swiftly into Bond, biting into man’s lips and whispering between kisses, “Always. With you, always.”

  

THE END

 


	22. Q's Mailbox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...or maybe it wasn't the end after all ^^
> 
> P.S. Remember to read **from the bottom to the top**!

**From:** Lynd, Adan  
**Sent:** Thursday, 19. August 2015 16:57  
**To:** Lynd, Chiara  
**Subject:** Cupcake

 

You are the worst person ever alive. 

A.

 

P.S.  I really can’t believe that I’m writing this but… Because a cupcake is hard on the outside but very soft and reach with flavour inside. He’s hard because of what had happed in his life so far. And then he is soft because he is still able to love.

 

* * *

 

 **From:** Lynd, Chiara  
**Sent:** Thursday, 19. August 2015 11:23  
**To:** Lynd, Adan  
**Subject:** Cupcake

 

Ah, Carino, but it doesn’t count without explanation!

 Xxx

 

Ps. I’m so happy for you

 

* * *

**From:** Lynd, Adan   
**Sent:** Thursday, 19. August 2015 10:55  
**To:** Lynd, Chiara  
**Subject:** Cupcake

 

Ciao Bella, 

Follow the subject ;)

A.

 

 

 


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